Just One of the Girls (2)

A pregnancy is always a celebration around an elementary school’s staff. However, 12 pregnancies at one school site are insane. Of course, there are cycles when a school site might have two, three, or four a school year, but 12, seriously strange. Well, that occurrence has happened at my school. I’ve been to many a baby shower over my career as a teacher but I will admit that my attendance at these events has declined over time. Once, I did jump out of a “cake” (a huge decorated box that is) for a colleague’s wedding shower given by the rest of the staff. I digress, as each announcement of another baby on the way this year was made; it brought me back to a key moment of my transformation into “Just One of the Girls”.

My wife, Sue, was roughly two months pregnant. Right along the same time as a fellow teacher at my school that shared my same lunch period. (Any teacher knows “lunch hour” is an oxymoron, thus lunch period) She was telling the group of one of her doctor’s visits. Sue and I had decided not to tell anyone about the pregnancy but I was at a point of really needing to tell my secret. So, with the ignorance of Napoleon heading to Waterloo, I leaped into the abyss of OB-GYN talk. I asked my friend what exactly did these doctor’s visits entail. The room fell silent, eyes fixed upon the two of us, and she as clear as a bell told me, “You know, they check your weight, blood pressure, and your uterus.” Now, next was my move-How do you, look at a woman that tells you she been examined as such, react? (A) Smile and nod, trying not to turn red (B) Ask for definitions (C) Ask another question. While all those danced in my brain, as I really just wanted to ask, “How in the hell do you do that? I choose (C) and calmly asked how the progress of the baby was going. It seemed to have let off the pressure has more details about being pregnant became part of our daily lunch conversation. Over the course of the next six and a half months, lunch became a place of comparison. My wife vs. my colleague in what became a Venn diagram of doctor’s visits, sonogram photos, baby room preparation, and name planning. We shared a baby shower, with Sue in attendance. The shower was a great party with all the usual games. Well, usual to me now but at the time I had no idea what was to occur. Guessing the weight of the mother to be and measuring the circumference of said mother’s tummy were all foreign at the time.  Pregnant women are remarkable. The crap they put up with, along with the incredible changes happening to their bodies, is astounding.  Men can barely handle a hug while women get their stomach rubbed, (sometimes without being asked) measured, get compared to large objects and have their breasts commented on or starred at by, well, everyone.

I heard the word “pumping” in a conversation and just looked straight ahead, waiting for context, until breast pumping was clearly defined as the subject matter. It had become an issue for those teachers with babies at home. (My wife included) Breasts are a subject matter that one would guess falls into “locker room” talk. However, you better include all locker rooms or lunchroom because I’ve heard more talk about breasts than I would have guessed going into my school career. One of the best moments concerning breasts came when a woman colleague confessed that in a Science lesson on Mammals the realization that Mammals and Mammary glands were related had a group of us in tears laughing. “Who knew?” I think was the line that sent us into the final delirium. Yes, babies are a celebration. The friends I have at school have all shared about joyous moments with their families with the group and me with them about mine. It truly is one of the best parts of being “Just One of the Girls”. Peace.