Lemon Drops and Limes

Yesterday morning as I leaned off the edge of our back porch and stared at the contents of my dinner, lunch and mid-day snack from the day before splattered on the ground in front of me, I realized that the convenience of always being about five steps from "outside" just might balance out the inconvenience of having one toilet on the far end of the compound over the course of the next seven months.

Ah, yes. The grim stories of morning sickness that have filtered to me across the ocean in recent weeks are now mine to share in. But I take comfort in the fact that I am now a proud participant in the (in)glorious experiences that characterize some part of the lives of so many women throughout the history of the world. I am just doing it with a bad taste in my mouth today.
One of my favorite things about living in a part of the world that I didn't grow up in (or my parents either for that matter) is getting to see firsthand how vastly different people all over the world are from each other. But the one thing I like even more than that is getting to glimpse how shockingly similar people all over the world are to each other. I have a feeling that pregnancy and motherhood will give ample opportunity to witness this over and over again.
Yesterday Aisha, the woman that helps me wash clothes and dishes, let out a little snort of laughter when she saw me feebly nibbling raisins on the couch. "Are you sick?" she asked. "No. The baby is just making my stomach hurt." I then did a probably unnecessary pantomime of vomiting (which turned out to be a new vocab word for the day) and she laughed as I suspect only a mother of three can. She then picked up a wedge of lime from off of the kitchen table. "Suck on this. It will help." She said and set the lime on top of a canister of lemon drops that my mother-in-law swears contributed to her survival twenty-some years ago.
Later in the afternoon two other women, acquaintances from down-the-road, popped in for a visit in their shiny new tobes for the Eid weekend. After some small talk I hesitantly told them our good news, still a little unsure of the most culturally appropriate way to let the cat out of the bag. My bumbling was rewarded with lots of high-pitched and only partially intelligible gabble of congratulations and advice. One of the first things the woman in the yellow tobe said was "Suck on limes if you feel sick. When I had my stomachs I went to bed with a lime in my hand so if I woke up sick I could suck on it right away." "Don't drink coffee!" The other said. "The smell will make you sick." "And don't cut onions or raw meat. That will make you sick too!" "Don't eat hot peppers. They will make your heart hurt." "And don't be afraid to tell your husband no. Just tell him to leave you alone, even if he hits you!" This remark made me first blush and then cringe, though my guests cackled at what seemed to be their own joke, following it up with an assuring, "But he will love the baby so much when it get here. And he will love you for giving it to him." On and on the conversation went like a vibrant de ja vu of e-mails and phone calls from college roommates, aunts and sister-in-laws who have all carried babies very far away from here.
I have been feeling much better today and know that I am richly blessed to be so healthy so far. It was significant to me to hear my friends and neighbors talk yesterday about the babies they have lost along the way. "Just pray a lot. Pray all the way through and Allah will hear you," they say and their voices speak of both peace and loss. I am grateful for all these women in my life, both here and far away. Their strength and senses of humor are endlessly encouraging to me in this new adventure. I may just trying going to bed with a lime tonight…

The first of the obligatory awkward pose picture - 8 weeks and counting...