By Heather O.
I took my time getting ready for church today. I washed, dried, and curled my hair, even using my mostly full, rarely used bottle of hairspray to keep it in place. I put on jewelry for the first time in days, and carefully applied my make-up. Since it is a glorious spring day, I chose not to wear the slimming black ensemble I have for the very pregnant, and instead chose a bright, springy dress that, granted, could sort of be described as mumu-like, but is a color that I have been told I look good in. I went to church, hoping that the grooming effort could somehow hide the fact that I do, indeed, resemble a member of a bison herd.
I got more stares, smiles, and giggles today that I ever thought possible. Usually people ask me, “So, how are you feeling?” or something along those lines. Today, there was only one question:
“How much longer do you have, anyway?”
Which, I’m convinced, is code for, ‘WOW, you are lookin’ HUGE, babe.”
A friend of mine at the end of church passed me, and did the giggle and asked the question. Finally I said, “Everybody is giggling today. What’s up?”
She looked at me with a merry expression and said, in the straightforward honest way you can only expect from a friend, “It’s your belly button, Heather. It’s just hilarious.”
I must have looked completely devastated, because she quickly said, “Oh, but it’s BEAUTIFUL, so cute and wonderful! Nobody has a belly like yours–just enjoy it!”
Ok, I suppose my belly button does stick out a little far, far enough to, you know, put out a small child’s eye. But it’s been like that since month 5. What am I supposed to do about it?
I quickly collected my son, and blew out of there. I had flopped myself down on the couch, still wearing my mumu-like dress, when DH came home from his meetings.
“You are indeed great with child,” he said, grinning at me and rubbing my belly.
I blasphemously wondered if the Mother of the Son of God had to put up with all of this crap.