The Sacred Bump…

FB_IMG_1466788188416[1]Is it my biological clock ticking too fast too loud or is every young woman I know heavy with child (ren)? Every time when I log onto any of my social media pages,beautiful photos of beautiful pregnancies are ever present.They are professional shots. Time was taken to produce them. Preparations were made to have them taken. Love oozes freely from them. There is real joy, happiness and excited anticipation in every one of them.They get me so excited, and of course, a little tinge of jealousy and wishful thinking stubbornly stick at the bottom of my heart. Then there are the little babies littering my timelines all the while. They are so beautiful, so adorable; it feels as if God is on a new mission to entice me fully. I have even booked future husbands for my future beautiful girl. No, not that she will have several men, I just want her to have a variety to choose one from. In this current world I do not really trust all of the upbringing of these adorable little ones. So just in case, I need to know that if one turns out all wrong we can scrap him off the list. Same goes for the little girls for my son.

The pregnant women I see and meet look lovely. They flaunt their lovely bumps. These days, women do not squeeze their baby bumps into ill-fitting clothes. Why would they? Entrepreneurs have set shop at every other corner to cater for Mama and baby from the day they are conceived until forever. Bosses go super easy on them. A pregnant woman will put on that dress, and throw on a nice jacket and voila, there you have her. I was watching an interview on TV, and when the interviewer stood to shake a leg with the guest celebrity; she was in nice flat sandals. Totally stress free. When the baby bump came to view, all her poor dance moves were forgiven. I did not even mind that she seemed oblivious of the rhythm. I just sat there, making all the crazy aaaw noises at how beautifully big she was and kept wondering if the baby was dancing too.

They really do take care of themselves these present day future moms. They do not do Abuja braids that will faithfully last them those nine months or thick heavy weaves that get so dry and ugly but they would’t have them removed because their hormones are into the roast goat-skin smell that emanate from them. Today’s pregnant woman books salon appointment and the salon lady who has been ‘your person’ long before this lady with life growing in her moved to your town will leave your head the moment her newest favorite client walks in, tummy first, and ask you to wait so she can do Mama Tim (Tim is the baby in the tummy) first. Can’t you see she is pregnant? She wouldn’t want her to be in there so long. You see, the smell of burnt hair gets her nauseated. You wouldn’t even wait for all the explanation because Mama Tim’s bump is so lovely you are literally fighting your hands not to touch it. You can feel your own ovaries squirm and your womb promise you hell on your next period.

Mama Tim’s hair has to be done in time for her baby shower starts in less than two hours. Everyone throws those these days. They aren’t just something you read in books or see in movies any more. I am tempted to believe future kids will not talk to their mothers for weeks when they are old enough and want to flaunt a throw back picture of them when they were covered in the warmth of the amniotic fluid, and they discover their dear mommy never threw a baby shower for them. How will you future mother explain a baby shower was not a measure of how excited you were to have them or how you loved them before you even saw them? I do not want to imagine. Future kids are people I am afraid to meet especially when they will be in their teens and adolescent pressure weighing in on them and the struggle to fit in seems unkindest.

Is it a requirement for a baby shower to have an all-white theme? I have not yet run into baby-shower pictures of beautiful women who aren’t beautifully,white done. What if I am invited to one of these? For the life of me, I cannot put together an all-white attire; will I have to go shopping? If I appear in my favorite color, black, will it be disrespectful? Will I be allowed in, or even near the expectant mother? The other girls will probably stop talking about baby and giving childcare advice and start whispering among them. I may not even be allowed to kiss-pose on the beautiful bump with them. Grandma used to tell me buying things for unborn babies was taboo. Now, people have a list of baby-things you can bring to them. Some even have specific places from where you should get them.

Oh but we have killed it. Nobody asks the nurse what it is. Medics no longer enjoy the pleasure of being the first to know and announce the gender. Everyone knows as soon as it can show on the scan. Oh but why? Well it has saved today’s boy child he does not have to put on dresses as an infant because he had sat like a girl in the womb and dresses had been bought. It is only fair no?

Then there is how pregnant women run their hands over the bump. As if to remind you there is a life going on in there. As if it is even possible to forget. You cannot argue with her. She will run the hand over her tummy. You do not want to cause her stress, so you will stop. When they are late they will run the hand, when they see you eat the last piece of your cake, the hand, when you need them to do what they should have been done with hours ago, the hand. That bump is their ticket to any object of their desire. They know it is everyone’s weakness and blind spot. You must never make an expectant mother cry. That bump is sacred!

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2 Comments

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  1. You amaze me!! You have a way with expressions, you bring out all sorts of emotions…..humor sarcasm….Excellent piece.

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