It's Not a Contest.

Mama D's Mom is a formidable woman.  She became a Ph.D.-holding scientist at a time (the 1970s) when women were still rejected from medical school because "married women couldn't possibly be serious about becoming doctors" (true story).  She dragged her new husband (Mama D's Dad) to Peace Corps after they graduated from college.  She copes with the chronic illnesses she and family members face with grace and great empathy.  She is Mama D's role model for feminism.

She also has some strange ideas about what being feminist means.  Especially as it relates to pregnancy.

Mama D mentioned that it was becoming more difficult to bend over in the third trimester.

"In my day," Mom says, "We were too busy proving we could do it all to complain about pregnancy.  We didn't want to be weak.  We went out and worked in the fields all day and came home at night to clean and cook and never once complained!  We were just as strong and capable as men."

"Um... you worked in the fields?  Are you sure you aren't mixing yourself up with someone... say Harriet Tubman?"

"Well, we worked.  And we never complained.  You're such a wimp."

"I work.  And being unable to bend over well is not a complaint.  It's a fact."

Mom just shakes her head like Mama D was a 16 year old whippersnapper who knew nothing about nothing.

***

"Jeez, being pregnant can be annoying," Mama D says as she tries three times to squeeze her belly tetris-style through some small gap between furniture that a few months ago would not have posed a problem.

"I loved being pregnant," says Mom.

Mama D looks at Mom as if she's just said she loved something similarly obnoxious, like Justin Bieber.  "Really?"

"Oh yes!  I mean, the pain was annoying and there were a lot of things that were not pleasant, but the result was so worth it!"

"Labor?"

"No, silly.  A Baby."  She says the word baby as if it was capitalized.  And had at least four syllables.  Something like Baaa-aaah-beee-eee.

***

Today, Mom has dental surgery.  Before leaving, she declares, "You don't get the sympathy today, Pregnant Lady!"

"What sympathy?"

"All the pity everyone in this family has for you."

"I thought you'd made it pretty clear to everyone I don't deserve sympathy."

"Well, you don't get it all today, so there."

"It's not a contest, Mom."

Again with the head shaking, as if she understands some great life mystery of which Mama D is incapable of comprehending.  Is she going to the dentist or to decipher the pyramids in Egypt?  Only time will reveal the truth.

But in the meantime, send Mom your sympathy today.

The Pressure is On.

Eight months after FutureMama D and FuturePapa M wed, they have moved to a new country to be near D’s aging parents. Before departing M’s Ohmma (that’s “Mother” in Korean), was grabbing D’s belly fat, asking when the babies were on their way. Not pregnant, yet. Just a little chub.
Upon landing in the good old U.S. of A., D’s Mom has begun a campaign of not mentioning babies, at least three times a day. A typical episode of not mentioning babies:

“You know, D, Brother B’s friend, E, just had a baby. Her baby is so sweet and cute and active. You would love it!”

“I’m not that into babies, Mom.”

“Well… no pressure. I’m not talking about babies, for the record. I don’t care if you wait three years or ten to start having kids.”

“I just stepped off the plane, Mom. I don’t have health insurance in this county.”

“You could qualify for insurance automatically if you were pregnant.”

“You want me to be an unemployed, pregnant, welfare mom? Are you seriously saying this to me?”

“No, no. Like I said, no pressure. I’m perfectly happy with E’s baby. You’ll love her so much. You’ll want to have one right away.”

“Mom, my husband doesn’t even arrive in the country for another four weeks.”

“Well… you never know.”

D gives Mom a look that hopefully says, Never know what? That I’ll mysteriously end up a welfare mother with a baby that is not my husband’s? Should I be worried about you sneaking into my room at night with a turkey baster from the local sperm donor center?

“But remember, D, I am not talking about babies. Not at all. No pressure”

Five minutes later, in a totally unrelated conversation.

“Oh, D! You know, if you had a baby, I could take off work and take care of it while you’re working.”

“Mom! No job yet. In this country for 15 minutes. Comprende?”

“Oh, I’m not mentioning babies… I’m just offering. No pressure.”

Whatever you say, Mom.