Well it’s 11:07 on a Friday night, and I’m sitting at the kitchen table, typing out some moments that I don’t want to forget. That’s the thing about motherhood. It’s all consuming…except memories, many of which eventually fade. So I will stay up late, accompanied by the sounds of my family sleeping, so that one day, when I’m struggling to recall specific moments from the most rewarding season of my life, I can reread stories, such as this one, and remember.
It was a warm spring Monday afternoon. There was excitement in the air because the kids and I were on our way to a site inspection for land that my husband and I are purchasing. However, there was also a hint of stress because, as usual, I was running a bit late. (To all those moms who struggle to leave home on time, you are not alone.) We had a 45 minute drive ahead of us, and I was hoping that all three kids would fall asleep, which would allow me to talk with the inspector without having to worry about them getting hurt, bickering, or wanting snacks. After all, it’s a pretty rare thing for me to converse with an adult without simultaneously parenting my offspring. Anyways, I was focused on driving, and the kids were amusing themselves when Ezra suddenly asked, “Mommy, was Ellie a baby in your tummy?”
Surprised by the random question but not wanting to ignore his curiosity, I replied, “Yes.”
Of course, that answer only begs another question, which he promptly asked: “How did she get out of your tummy?”
And I had to laugh inside, because this is motherhood.
However, before I could utter a word, Marcie replied, “Well let me tell you! The mommy has a baby in her tummy, and then the baby gets bigger and heavier. So the mommy knows it’s time to have the baby, so she goes to the hospital, and the baby comes out of her vagina. And then they cut the cord and they know if it’s a boy or a girl.”
Satisfied with her answer, Ezra shifted the conversation to Ellie’s potty training journey and the differences between boys and girls. Pretty soon they had all fallen asleep, and, aside from sharing the incident with Matt and a close friend, the memorable conversation seemed complete, or so I thought.
Wednesday morning arrived. It was shower day for me, but I decided to postpone my shower until after I’d eaten breakfast. I had just finished the last bite of my mushroom bacon omelet when there was a knock on the door. Although it was 9:30am, I was still wearing pajamas (no bra, mind you), my messy bun barely contained any hair, and my face was puffy from allergies. Annoyed, I opened the door to discover the construction manager standing there. Rather than delving into the woe that is our apartment situation, suffice it to say that I was far from pleased at seeing him. As a dear friend stated, it’s not fun having someone intrude upon your space. And intrusions have been what we’ve dealt with for nearly a year. Anyways, there he stood, wanting to know if he could install an outlet cover. Since it seemed like an easy/quick thing, I let him in. While he worked in the kitchen, I folded clothes in the living room. Funny how the sofa is the holding zone for laundry. Like a moth drawn to a flame, Ezra was immediately there, strategically positioned at the bottom of the ladder so as to see what was happening. And then the conversation commenced. At first, he focused on practical matters. “Be careful to not fall off the ladder.” Then, “When you open the fridge door, cold air comes out, so we keep the door closed.” Back to safety – “The thing that tells when there’s smoke beeps and it beeps at night and it wakes me up and I don’t like it.” But then it took a drastic turn. With all the candidness a child contains, my four year old son told a man who is a still a relative stranger to us, “Ellie was a baby in Mommy’s tummy.”
“Oh,” said the man, because what does one say to such a confident statement such as that.
Without hesitating, Ezra continued, “And Mommy went to the hospital and the doctors put their hands in her vagina and the baby came out of Mommy’s vagina!”
Thankfully, the man laughed. As a dad with five kids, he gets it. And, although that might seem like a mortifying situation, I couldn’t help but be proud of my son. Just two days earlier, he had learned information that intrigued him and now he was passing it along to others. The fact that his big sister had fielded his question made this moment even sweeter. I hope my children always feel comfortable learning from each other. And I hope that they continue to ask questions, pursuing knowledge with humility and grace. Cheers to birth stories and candid kids!
Daffodils and Diapers 