Mums the Word - On First Time Parents

A mother's perspective

By Hope Forrest

The other day my brother and sister-in-law came for a visit. They are expecting their firstborn. I had been waiting for this moment for more than three years. My basement had boxes and crates of baby stuff stacked to the ceiling. "Hey," I said casually, "Let's go down to the dump, whoops, I mean basement and see if there is anything you will be needing!"

Great with child, the blossoming mother blindly follows me down the stairs, an unsuspecting lamb. "What is that smell?" She asked. (What is it about pregnant women that they can smell anything a mile away?) "Oh, that," I beamed proudly, "That is my very own blend of "Eau de Drenched Dog!" I'll give you the formula later."

Climbing the step ladder, I reached into the first box and passed her the inflatable ring. "What's this?" she questioned, examining the deflated tube. "Is it some kind of baby lifesaving device?" I almost fell off the ladder.

"What do you think it is for?" Studying her face, I notice it twitch and distort as the reality slowly dawned on her. "Here, if you are taking that, you'll need this." I passed her the sitz bath. Hm, this is fun - in a slightly warped kind of way. Now I am really into this!

I dropped the box onto the dusty basement floor. It is a treasure chest full of pregnancy and postpartum paraphernalia: tubes, bottles, pumps, pads . . . Instead of telling her what each device is for, I have found it much more amusing to play, "What is it?"

My brother came down and was checking out the hospital size breast pump. "Hey, Honey, why don't we have one of these?" The name on the side of the machine is Swedish so he is thinking it must be some kind of kitchen appliance.

Timing is everything. I wait until he is actually touching the breast cup to tell him what it is for. He snaps back his hand in horror and runs away. Throwing back my head, I emit an eerie laugh. Oh the joys of watching new parents squirm and fidget.

I am done! Never ever again! Now the laughter is so evil, it is almost frightening.

Three days and thirteen boxes later, they left.

Sherwood and I stood in the barren basement, reminiscing about our diaper days. There was no melancholy or sorrow - just great expectations for tomorrow.