Friday, June 23, 2006
Truly Magical...
I have just, for the first time in my life, had the opportunity to touch the belly of a 9-months-pregnant woman. For the first time that I remember, at any rate - for I am sure I was all over my mom when she was pregnant with my sister, but I was too young for this to leave any impression on me.
We were sitting outside in the yard of the office having coffee and chatting, when suddenly she unbuttoned and pulled down the denim of her pants that was covering her large belly, and called my boss and me over. "See, if you touch me right here and here, you will feel his foot and his little butt... see?"
I pulled my chair over to her and was staring at her belly a bit in awe before I dared to reach out and touch it. You see, pregnancy is still an enigma to me, something I dream about, but really have no real concept of. I don't know anything about growing a baby inside beyond what they teach you and what you hear from pregnant women, and the simple ability to create life from and within your body is this awe-inducing respect-demanding miracle that in my mind puts all pregnant woman on a shining mysterious pedestal. In my mind pregnancy is 9 months of bliss, during which the woman, thoroughly pampered by the growing child's father, has time and leisure to focus on herself and listen inside herself and be in gleaming awe over what is happening with her body every second of the day. I have always wondered what a pregnancy belly would feel like, and even though there were many women in my life that were pregnant, they never offered for me to touch them, and I never dared to ask. It's just not a thing to ask. All the more stunned I was when she, a girl I barely know at all, offered me to feel her belly, surprised, and dumbfoundedly awe-struck.
I finally reached out and very gently put my palm onto the area she told us his foot would be at, afraid to make her or the baby uncomfortable. She laughed at me and told me to touch a little firmer in order to feel it. So I pressed a bit harder, and could feel a slightly moving bulge. To me, it was a truly magical moment. And very intimate. To feel another woman's unborn child, to feel it move underneath her skin. That very instant gifted me with a whole new layer of perception about pregnancy, and what's really happening with a woman's body, and what a pregnant woman might feel. I understood that I understand nothing of pregnancy yet, and while I rested my hand on her I revelled in my naiveté and the feeling of awe that this not-knowing gave me. I saw before me this whole new world, like fresh untouched snow, just waiting for me to enter and explore by myself. As I saw my boss' hand touching the other side of her belly where the baby's little butt was, and saw the same awe-struck look on his face, I suddenly understood that for men this is all a pregnancy will ever be. All they can ever do is touch, look, admire, wonder, question. For them, this world is not one to explore, it's just one to look at and admire. With my boss' hand and my hand next to each other on her belly, I realized a man's limitations in all of its implications, I realized that at this moment we both knew the exact same limited facts about pregnancy from observation only, but where there is a door for me to walk through and turn observation into personal experience one day, there will always only be a glass window for men to look through, even when it comes to their own offspring.
After the maximum time span I thought was appropriate to keep my hand on her, I finally pulled away, feeling incredibly gifted and special, floating on a cloud for the rest of the day. I am in no rush. I am in no hurry. But I am definitely feeling an inner tremble of excitement when I think of my mere potential to walk through this door myself one day not too far away.
We were sitting outside in the yard of the office having coffee and chatting, when suddenly she unbuttoned and pulled down the denim of her pants that was covering her large belly, and called my boss and me over. "See, if you touch me right here and here, you will feel his foot and his little butt... see?"
I pulled my chair over to her and was staring at her belly a bit in awe before I dared to reach out and touch it. You see, pregnancy is still an enigma to me, something I dream about, but really have no real concept of. I don't know anything about growing a baby inside beyond what they teach you and what you hear from pregnant women, and the simple ability to create life from and within your body is this awe-inducing respect-demanding miracle that in my mind puts all pregnant woman on a shining mysterious pedestal. In my mind pregnancy is 9 months of bliss, during which the woman, thoroughly pampered by the growing child's father, has time and leisure to focus on herself and listen inside herself and be in gleaming awe over what is happening with her body every second of the day. I have always wondered what a pregnancy belly would feel like, and even though there were many women in my life that were pregnant, they never offered for me to touch them, and I never dared to ask. It's just not a thing to ask. All the more stunned I was when she, a girl I barely know at all, offered me to feel her belly, surprised, and dumbfoundedly awe-struck.
I finally reached out and very gently put my palm onto the area she told us his foot would be at, afraid to make her or the baby uncomfortable. She laughed at me and told me to touch a little firmer in order to feel it. So I pressed a bit harder, and could feel a slightly moving bulge. To me, it was a truly magical moment. And very intimate. To feel another woman's unborn child, to feel it move underneath her skin. That very instant gifted me with a whole new layer of perception about pregnancy, and what's really happening with a woman's body, and what a pregnant woman might feel. I understood that I understand nothing of pregnancy yet, and while I rested my hand on her I revelled in my naiveté and the feeling of awe that this not-knowing gave me. I saw before me this whole new world, like fresh untouched snow, just waiting for me to enter and explore by myself. As I saw my boss' hand touching the other side of her belly where the baby's little butt was, and saw the same awe-struck look on his face, I suddenly understood that for men this is all a pregnancy will ever be. All they can ever do is touch, look, admire, wonder, question. For them, this world is not one to explore, it's just one to look at and admire. With my boss' hand and my hand next to each other on her belly, I realized a man's limitations in all of its implications, I realized that at this moment we both knew the exact same limited facts about pregnancy from observation only, but where there is a door for me to walk through and turn observation into personal experience one day, there will always only be a glass window for men to look through, even when it comes to their own offspring.
After the maximum time span I thought was appropriate to keep my hand on her, I finally pulled away, feeling incredibly gifted and special, floating on a cloud for the rest of the day. I am in no rush. I am in no hurry. But I am definitely feeling an inner tremble of excitement when I think of my mere potential to walk through this door myself one day not too far away.
Comments:
<< Home
I love working with children, and think babies are just the cutest thing on the planet. I never really felt like having children of my own, though. The idea of pregnancy still terrifies me, and I didn't really know if I want to raise kids. It seemed like one of those things that I may be expected to do, but that was for other people.
But recently, I went to visit my new baby cousin. She is only 6 months old, at this age where she just looks around at everything without blinking because it is all so crazy and new. She can't take care of herself, yet. She just has to trust that someone will love her and nurture her until she can do make it on her own. That was the first moment I felt the slightest tingle of my biological clock beginning to tick.
And I said to myself . . . "Oh no!" ;)
Post a Comment
But recently, I went to visit my new baby cousin. She is only 6 months old, at this age where she just looks around at everything without blinking because it is all so crazy and new. She can't take care of herself, yet. She just has to trust that someone will love her and nurture her until she can do make it on her own. That was the first moment I felt the slightest tingle of my biological clock beginning to tick.
And I said to myself . . . "Oh no!" ;)
# posted by 
: 12:58 PM
: 12:58 PM << Home
