Special Purpose

I sometimes have a lot of bits and pieces that I would like to write about but I can't figure out how to pull it all together.  Like, how do you tell your mother-in-law that you don't like the blueberry pie she brought when your husband is just going to say, "Mom, she hated it." and get you in trouble anyway.  But as wonderfull and idiotic as parts of Christmas were, this blog all came together when Sara placed the VHS tape in my hand.

Sara is an old friend.  We had the type of childhood friendship that you could write books about and every time I think of her, I smile.  That is a very special person, because most people barely get a smirk out of me anymore.  We loved Wayne & Garth, starting bands without knowing how to play instruments, and Dorney Park.  We would spend countless summer days at Dorney coming up with Saturday Night Live type sketches to amuse ourselves.  These included - talking loudly in ride lines about how so and so had died, gotten injured, or was currently in a coma from the ride, waving hysterically at strangers and calling out fake names from the top of water slide towers, and taking turns pretending each other was deaf and doing fake sign language.

But as childhood friendships often do, ours stalled in highschool.  I can't even tell you why because when I think of Sara, all the good stuff seems to have taken over my memory.  But thanks to facebook and Sara's mother, we found each other.  However, she lives across the country and I have only gotten to see her around Christmas.  So, this past Saturday was our day.  I picked her up at her childhood home and we went for lunch.  But, before I pulled out of the driveway, Sara had me close my eyes because she had a Christmas present for me.  When I opened them, there in my palm was Steve Martin's movie, "The Jerk". 

The Jerk was one of our absolute 14 year old favorites.  We could have acted out that whole movie we watched it so many times.  So, today I popped it in the kitchen TV while I was cooking and giggled along just like I was in 9th grade all over again.  Then I got to the part where Navin (Martin) finds out what his "special purpose" (aka penis) is for, and writes home to his adopted black family about it.  That part is hysterical.  But it weirdly, or maybe fatefully, pulled it all together for me...

I'm pregnant again.  Yup, baby number four for us.  David and I were always on the same page, kids wise.  A cool four kids never made us sweat, in fact, our scarey "those people are crazy!" number would probably be six.  But, I know how a lot of people are, and just hearing about more than two pregnancies makes them break out in hives and they look at you like you're Amish. So, I've felt apprehensive about telling people.  And I really shouldn't have to be.  It's not like I asked them to carry the baby for nine months, or come over and be my nanny.

One couple I'm friends with are these cool, atheist, libertarian types.  They are all, don't tell me what to do with my life, or body, or beliefs! And trust me, I won't!  But... They are very good at making me feel like they are judging or smirking at me.  Me and my breastfeeding, stay-at-home, multiple pregnancy lifestyle.  What the hell! I often think.  Aren't you supposed to be all chair-talking Clint Eastwood, to each his own? Not being forced to participate in religious type things... yes. "Backwards" woman activites like nursing and staying home... no.

So, I know what I'm up against out there.  In fact, a few days after posting the good news on Facebook, one of my husbands friends called me.  And it was one of those awkard conversations where instead of them yelling "congratulations!" into the phone, you get the feeling that they are calling to make sure you are "ok".  It literally sounds like they are trying to feel you out for mental illness, and every answer you give them they say, "ok, (pause) ok."  And then at the end they ask if this is your last one.  What do you say to that? I was truthful, and could feel the apologetic tone rising in my voice as if I had to apologize to society at large for the double sin of not only being pregnant with a fourth child, but also not being scared of a fifth one.

But then I sat down across the booth from Sara. We ate Italian food and talked about our lives.  Sara's long time girl friend had just left her.  She had big plans swimming in her heart for this girl... kids, picket fence, the whole nine yards.  I could feel the pain of a lost future, so much that I could practically touch the wound.  The waitress put down an extra soda and I tried to lighten the mood by telling Sara to drink it because every time I get pregnant I lose my taste for coffee and soda.  I literally go from a bold, black starbucks to nothing.  And every morning after the day I give birth, I drink a black cup of coffee like I didn't skip a beat.  Sara laughs and says, "That's so cool.  I love that. You're so lucky."  I smiled back but I really wanted to throw my arms around her and cry with relief and joy that only a good friend can give you even in the midst of their own personal pain.  She very simply made it ok for me to be happy, love being pregnant again, and feel lucky.

Everyone has a "special purpose". When you figure out what to do with yours it is definately something to write home to Momma about.  Some people use theirs with more purpose than others. But if you know someone that is happily having a fourth, or fifth baby, and they are happy about it... be happy with them.  It may not be your cup of tea, but to them, that tea tastes just fine.  Go make your own pot and be happy too.