My wife is a brave soul. She is currently on the hormonal rollercoaster that is pregnancy. Unlike other amusement park rides, it has no lines whatsoever, and this is because no one particularly likes feeling alternately happy and sad in quick succession.
Watching my wife go from happy to sad without any inkling as to why is like watching a helium-filled balloon deflate very quickly, but without the shrieking sound of air escaping. Although I do suspect she is shrieking inwardly at least a little bit when this occurs. When she has the pregnancy hormone blues, I imagine she is – in her soul, at least – a blues virtuoso who plays a mean guitar. Inside, she is B. B. King, but white, and young.
One night Becki and I were going to bed and she was happy as a clam, bouncing about like an apple in a bobbing tank. She flipped her pillow over and apparently simultaneously flipped some switch in her head at the same time. When she rolled over to say goodnight, all she could say was “I’m s-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ad!” The word drizzled out of her mouth like maple syrup onto pillowy pancakes.
“Why?” I said, being the incurable, infernal idiot that I am.
“I don’t kno-o-o-o-o-o-ow,” she said, with only a minimal hint of the Wisconsinese “o” sound (Most of her Wisconsin accent has been Eliza-Doolittled away with practice and time spent in Kansas) that once was her trademark.
“Um, you know what?” I said. “I bet you’ll feel better if you go to sleep.” Of course, I had no idea what I was talking about. I could only think, “How could she go from happy to sad so quickly?” Pregnant women can go from happy to sad in sixty seconds like emotional race-cars. Fact.
Is it wrong that I find my wife adorable even at times such as these? Is it wrong that I want to write blogs entries like this one to preserve the memories of those cute and funny moments? Keep in mind, she probably finds these times less cute and funny than I do. Overall so far, however, she has had a very stable, even-keel kind of pregnancy. She has not felt all that nauseous – has not tossed her cookies even once (Well, along with me, she has thrown a few cookies into her mouth along the way). She is four-months along now, and we are attending a weekly pregnancy class (the Brio method) taught by Amber Lehrman, a woman from our church. We are learning a lot.
Becki is even learning medical things she did not know before, which is a revelation to me as well. I always assume Becki knows everything there is to know about the human body. She knows about hemo-goblins and tea-party cells and slippids and other words I enjoy bungling on purpose so she will correct me. She is quite adept at correcting her imbecilic husband. I always like my version of the medical facts better than hers, but I always assume she knows more – everything, really.
In pregnancy, she is a student on a rollercoaster ride. She is a race-car changing gears. She is a balloon ascending and deflating, going from happy to sad in sixty seconds. She is a champion, building a baby in her belly with bits of protein and amino acids like a shop class assembling a car in a garage from spare parts.