Oh, Baby!

Each day, young mothers parade past my window, taking children to the nearby elementary school.

I feel for pregnant moms whose steps slow as the months pass. Although decades have gone by, I remember well those exhausting days. I doubt these lovely young women believe their husbands’ reassurance any more than I believed mine, who told me I was beautiful.

What insanity had blinded his usual astute vision? Seven months pregnant with our first child, I felt like a walking ottoman.

“Turn around.” Hubby gave me a gentle push. “Look in the mirror. See? From the rear, you can’t even tell you’re pregnant.”

“So if I just walk backwards, nobody will know?”

“It means you’ll lose weight fast after the baby’s born.” A family practice resident at the local hospital, he knew how to handle cranky women in their last trimester.

I kissed him goodbye. Would I splurge and take the bus to my part-time job or ride my bike through our quiet neighborhood? I grinned. Each time I rode up on my three-speed, Mr. Plunkett, an older man in my office, threw his window open in horror.

Mrs. Phillips!” he shouted. “Come in and put your feet up!”

He always brought me a glass of water. Where was my mother? Did my husband really find this acceptable?

But graying skies made a ride risky. Mr. P. might have a coronary if I rode up amid thunder and lightning. So I decided to take the bus.

I donned my pink maternity outfit and slipped into comfortable shoes I’d bought when I no longer could see my feet. I arrived at the bus stop five minutes early, drifting into daydreams of nursery rhymes and rock-a-bye songs.

“Hey, Pink Pants!” Masculine voices called over my shoulder. Long whistles echoed through the air. “Hey, baby! Oh, baby!”

I stared at my stomach, confused. Sure, I was going to have a baby, but—? I cast a cautious glance behind.

Two linemen, perched atop an electrical pole, hooted at me. And yes, unless I had lost feminine instincts along with my waistline, ear-to-ear lecherous smiles gleamed on their faces.

Blank disbelief washed over me—then a joyous rush of wickedness. But Niceness pointed a finger at me, and I wavered. Should I? Or shouldn’t I?

I turned around and waved sweetly at my admirers, who nearly fell to the ground.

I waddled up the steps onto the bus. As it rolled away, I watched them hugging the pole, trying in vain to hide scarlet, guilty faces.

“Whoa, baby,” I whispered to my stomach. “You’re already knocking ’em off their feet.”

 

Your Extraordinary Ordinary: What’s your favorite prego story?

6 thoughts on “Oh, Baby!

    1. rachael Post author

      You’re welcome, Angie! Actually, some fellow Baby Boomers and I agree that perhaps walking backward might help us with the Big Belly syndrome! Thanks for your comment , and blessings on your day!

      Reply
        1. rachael Post author

          Hahaha, Velma, I wonder if those guys ever whistled at a girl again? (At least, they probably checked out her face–and front–first!)

          Reply
  1. Mary F Allen

    Hahaha! Great story Rachel! Something similar happened to me late in my 8th month (and it looked like that baby was coming out my belly button.) I got to say though I had a super easy first pregnancy and felt great from month 3-9 and moved easily up to the end because I carried her high. I felt beautiful. I got a wolf whistle from a man behind me. It was a great pick-me-upper. That never happened the second time around when I carried a baby linebacker low and slow.

    Reply
    1. rachael Post author

      It was a pick-me-up, Mary, after I got over the initial shock 🙂 I carried all three of my kids high; I felt like I was 95% stomach, defying the laws of gravity. Also, I couldn’t even eat oatmeal without getting major heartburn. Ah, sweet prego memories! Sometimes getting old isn’t so bad!

      Thanks for your comment, and have a blessed day.

      Reply

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