As Momma's tummy stretches and grows - it looks like I swallowed a basketball! - it creates more buzz from complete strangers. Strangers who mean well, but have no idea. No idea about our precious Peanut, no idea about the immense loss and grief we've struggled with this year, no idea what a miracle and blessing The Bean is, and just how scared Momma is to open her heart to hope.
Today, Momma told a lie. Normally, when the questions start, I have a script:
Stranger: Oh! Is this your first?
Me: No.
Stranger: How many others do you have? Boys or girls?
Silence while I assess the situation. Will I run into this person again? How much do I reveal?
Me: I have a little boy.
Stranger: And, do you know if this is a boy or girl?
Me: A boy.
Stranger: You must be thrilled! Is his big brother excited? How old is he???
Further assessment of the situation...
Peanut, at this point, I usually either avoid the questions, redirect the conversation or tell the truth. It depends on the person, the relationship and potential future interactions. Today, however, I flat out lied.
I was on the phone, making small talk with a Nordstrom customer service representative while she waited for my order to be corrected. We got on the topic of the pregnancy, and the script played out as usual. When we got to the last questions, I hesitated. And then, I just plunged head first into my lie:
Me: Yes, he is delighted. He's just over two years old, and is going to be a fantastic big brother.
Oh. Gosh. What did I just do? In my heart and mind, it really isn't a lie. You are just over two. You already are the world's best brother. I believe you look out for the The Bean each and every day. You aren't just any ordinary brother - you are the most special kind of brother out there. An Angel Brother.
Peanut, maybe I should feel guilty about this interaction, but...I don't. Because, in its own way it is 100% true. I'm sending you my love along with a giant Momma hug. To the moon and back, 'Nut.
- Momma
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