March 07, 2005

The edumacation proclamation de partie deuxième

Ok where were we ? Ah yes, bizarre pregnancy stories. So. At the class, the discussion went on to talk about the reactions of other people to pregnancy, and to pregnant women. Many people there talked about the ways in which being pregnant made them feel like other people had forgotten or put aside their normal behaviours. Certainly, your mum has said previously that people feel like her personal space is no longer existent, and that they can feel free to touch her belly, where you live.

Some of the other pregnantladies™ at the class talked about people kissing (!!!) their bellies with no prior warning. Eliza talked about the fact that there are five (!!!) women at her place of work who are pregnant, and that other people are constantly making comments about the relative sizes thereof. Make no mistake, pumpkin, pregnant women are fairly conscious about their bellies (having to lug 12 kilos around all day every day, you’d be pretty conscious of it too), and people don’t need to remind them about it. People need to, pumpkin, tell pregnantladies™ that they are beautiful, lovely, wonderful and get them food (stat) when they ask for it.

Of course, we talked about other stuff than just bizarre cravings and freaky people, we talked about you.

The lovely Alison, who was in charge of the second session, talked to us about what to expect when you first arrive. One of the things that she was careful to tell us was that you will very likely be quite blue when you first pop out. Being familiar with the birthing process (miss purdey had seven puppies), I find myself somewhat comfortable with the idea that you’re not going to be particularly beautiful when you arrive. The fact that you’ll be blue, covered in “vernix” (they can call it what they like, it looks like snot to me) and have what’s called a ‘distended’ head, is of no importance to me. I’m sure that you will be the most wonderfully gorgeous baby a mum and dad could ever wish for.

The fact that your first poo, called “meconium”, will be greenish black and sticky, and in all probability cover you from head to toe, is of no importance to me whatsoever, because, as I am so fond of saying at the end of very chapter, I

Love you.

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