The other night we met some neighbors for the first time. They’re new and, like us, they’re foreign. Well, the woman is foreign. The man is Central Asian. Anyway, we did the typical thing and took them a cake. We ended up having a great time. I think we’ll be friends. We seemed to think alike on many topics.

Except one.

The man was asking me questions about Bean’s arrival. He asked if I was going to have an epidural. “Heck yeah!” I answered. (That’s a loose translation, of course.) He said, “But, that’s no good! You can’t have any medicine! The pain is there so you’ll know you’ve become a mom.”

So I’ll know I’m a mom? Hmmm…. I guess I’ll have to skip the epidural. I mean, the 3 months of morning sickness, all of the sonograms, the growing belly, the active little girl moving around in my belly and kicking my ribs, the pain that sends me to the hospital, the needle in my back, the classy hospital gown, the doctors and nurses surrounding me, the beeping of equipment, the doctor telling me to push, and the arrival of a sweet and crying baby…. nah, that won’t tell me I’ve become a mom. I’m sure if I don’t feel the pain, I’ll take one look at Bean and say, “Hey! What kind of trick are you trying to pull on me! She’s not mine! I didn’t feel anything! If I didn’t feel any pain, how can I be a mama?”

That’s like saying you only know you were in the navy because of the tattoo on your arm.

Or you only know you’ve eaten too much at Thanksgiving when they bring out the stomach pump.

I like this guy’s wife a lot. She told him to shut up & that he didn’t know what he was talking about. I think she and I will be friends.

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