I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the sheer miracle of life. It’s hard not to. Birth announcements are to the 30’s as wedding announcements were to the 20’s.
Once Lucie passed the nine month mark, she had officially been outside of the womb longer than inside. That didn’t mean that I worried any less, though. Ever since she was a sesame seed inside of Mama K, I fretted about her livelihood–and that was probably the safest environment that she will ever experience. In fact, she’s working on exploratory skills, scooting around at small critter speeds and inching up stairs with gusto. The Midwest Grandparents are in town and teaching Little Bug to walk; I’m secretly wishing they would knock it off. Let’s work on “stay” and “sit tight” and “massage Mama’s shoulders (it’s been a long day).” My mind’s eye can already see Future Me running behind Little Bug in the dreaded, hunched over parent trot that has fed more chiropractor clinics than Xtreme sports.
So back to the topic of life… there are two things that I don’t really understand about conception. No, not those things. I think I have that down, though I’ve only got hearsay to guide me. The two things I wonder about are why we are so reticent about our baby making efforts, and why can’t we talk about our trials and tribulations?
Guess what? The Mamas are trying for number two. Guess what else, our first attempt didn’t take– it usually takes male/female couples 5-6 tries to conceive. We also know a few couples who required medical help to get a family started. Why won’t we talk about that? No one is judging the potency of your partner or the ability of the potential mother to trap a microscopic tadpole with her egg. What is with the cultural secrecy?
Also, why are we not allowed to tell people that we’re pregnant until after 12 weeks? Is it the superstition of naming that which should not be named? Your baby isn’t Voldemort; you are allowed to discuss its existence. We actually know more couples who have experienced miscarriages than those who have not. Healthy, thin, religious, affluent, calm, organic, young, altruistic people who just happen to experience the M word and who are not at fault in the least. So why won’t we talk about it?
I guess it’s probably the same reason why gay people stay in the closet. A fear of judgement, an avoidance of discussing all things that could invoke sexual imagery, or just Americans minding their own business. Yet I think that not talking about conception, lack of conception, and loss of the conceived adds an element of shame to what is supposed to be the most common, faultless experience out there. Hey future parents of the world: if the gays can be open, so can you. Here’s to dialogue!