The Liturgy of Motherhood
Eighteen weeks of pregnancy for me equals about 6 boxes of Benadryl (it helps me do battle with the nausea), 2 bottles of extra-strength Tums, 3 bottles of Flintstones vitamins (since swallowing pills is still a skill that eludes me), various prescriptions for heartburn and indigestion (that I will inevitably stop taking because sometimes it's better to have the heartburn than to gag and heave while I chew up the pills), approximately 96 oz of dill pickles (It's still not enough. I assure you--there are never enough pickles in this house.), a couple handfuls of extra-strength Tylenol, bland food, lots of Sprite Zero, lots of iced tea, MANY more tears at pretty much ANYTHING that could ever cause ANYONE to feel ANY emotion, and the need for more sleep.
Motherhood is a fun club to be a part of. I took a friend and her family dinner the other night and met her new daughter. And I was struck by how I know my way around that. . . culture.
Bring a meal with disposable dishes. Ask about labor. Oh my gosh, your labor sounds awful/horrific/so hard. (You know what? It was. That's always true.) You look great! (Also always true. Childbirth feels like it will kill you. So if you are alive, good job. Though Erica looked way better than merely alive.) Pay attention to the older children. Ask about breast feeding. Ask about sleep. Ask about recovery. Ask about the visitors, family, the transition in general.
There are things that we say over and over because they're true. And we mean them. There are things I've learned since I was newly-married and young and took someone a meal for the first time after they had a baby and I said, "I heard your labor was pretty easy!" And I stayed too long. And I asked naive questions.
I'm so grateful for the many friends that I am raising kids alongside of. That we have a space to ask questions and share answers and ideas. Or just to voice the concerns together and nod with questions in our eyes--someone to say, I don't know either. I'm happy that my boys will grow up with friends with good families, people we can trust, loving homes to play in. Sometimes pregnancy can make me feel alone, stranded, about to embark on a huge task with no back-up plan. It can make me a little panicky. I'm glad I have people around me that are gracious to me as I learn and come to terms with life.
Motherhood is a fun club to be a part of. I took a friend and her family dinner the other night and met her new daughter. And I was struck by how I know my way around that. . . culture.
Bring a meal with disposable dishes. Ask about labor. Oh my gosh, your labor sounds awful/horrific/so hard. (You know what? It was. That's always true.) You look great! (Also always true. Childbirth feels like it will kill you. So if you are alive, good job. Though Erica looked way better than merely alive.) Pay attention to the older children. Ask about breast feeding. Ask about sleep. Ask about recovery. Ask about the visitors, family, the transition in general.
There are things that we say over and over because they're true. And we mean them. There are things I've learned since I was newly-married and young and took someone a meal for the first time after they had a baby and I said, "I heard your labor was pretty easy!" And I stayed too long. And I asked naive questions.
I'm so grateful for the many friends that I am raising kids alongside of. That we have a space to ask questions and share answers and ideas. Or just to voice the concerns together and nod with questions in our eyes--someone to say, I don't know either. I'm happy that my boys will grow up with friends with good families, people we can trust, loving homes to play in. Sometimes pregnancy can make me feel alone, stranded, about to embark on a huge task with no back-up plan. It can make me a little panicky. I'm glad I have people around me that are gracious to me as I learn and come to terms with life.
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