She’s not asking anyone to fish her twins’ Lego’s out of the toilet. She’s not asking a single soul to carry the babies, breathe in rhythm, birth them, diaper them, feed them, stay awake with them, clean up vomit, drive them to doctor’s appointments, buy her a new minivan, hemorrhoid cream or matching cribs.
She certainly would never ask anyone to see them through the teething years, apply to preschool, buy school supplies, pack their lunches, wipe their tears, and ease their fears.
She is not asking anyone to sign them up for the travel tee ball team, buy the cleats, uniforms, and endless cases of Gatorade.
She’s not asking for free tickets to Disney World, a nanny, housekeeper or laundry service.
She’s not asking anyone to take over raising her three teenagers so she can nap and shop for maternity clothes.
She is not asking for anyone’s opinion, approval, haughty laughter, tongue clicking, wide-eyed chin dropping, cruel behind-her-back gossip, advice, or scorn.
You see, she’s not asking anyone for anything. Okay, she is asking God for a healthy pregnancy…for healthy baby boys…but she’s not asking anyone for any big, inconvenient favor. So why are they treating her like she is? Why are they treating her like she robbed a bank or took a job at a strip club to save up for looming college tuition?
She’s simply answering the wordless stares at her newly pooching belly. She’s pushing 42, pregnant with twins and beams as if the sun’s rays originate from behind her pupils.
Why do they care? Why do they feel it’s their place to look shocked and horrified? How difficult is it to simply say, “Congratulations — How are you feeling?”
She’s not acting bitter or feeling sorry for herself that her new, sleek sedan she just got for her birthday last year won’t accommodate her upcoming family of seven. She did not act bitter when I pulled out of the neighborhood for an extended road trip in my new sleek sedan. Rather, when I email to see how she was feeling, she wrote,
“Thanks for asking. I hope you’re having fun and getting lots of looks in your hot new car! I am doing well, but there are times when I think, 'Okay people, you don't have to look SO surprised. I still am capable of having children.' It’s almost like, they’re wondering how I can be pregnant AND happy.
Take care and be safe.
Love ya.”
I love you too, friend. And even though you haven’t asked, I’ll paint your toenails when you can no longer reach them. I’ll pick up Peach Ice-cream from The Creamery and eat it in bed with you. I’ll change the messiest of diapers and hold colicky baby boys so you can get a shower. I will celebrate new life and always be happy for you.
I will be your friend.
Karen Rinehart is a syndicated newspaper columnist, public speaker, and creator of The Bus Stop Mommies™. Her book, Invisible Underwear, Bus Stop Mommies and Other Things True To Life, is a popular read in book clubs, school pick up lines, and soccer fields. She enjoys hearing from readers across the States and as far away as Australia, Japan, and England. You can read more at BusStopMommies.com. Karen lives in North Carolina with her two kids, two dogs, and one husband, where they attend St. James Catholic Church. (Well, they leave the dogs at home.)
