I realized I hadn’t seen a pregnant lady in a very long time when she stood at our table asking “still or sparkling.” She was radiant in an emerald-green dress with her strawberry blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. She, of course, had her hand placed lovingly, protectively upon her rounded stomach. My friend, Sara and I exchanged knowing glances and asked for sparkling.
When she walked away, I started whispering like a schoolgirl. “I haven’t seen one in so long! It’s like we’re living in Children of Men.” I referred to the dystopian novel from the 1990’s where mass infertility has steadily depopulated the earth. There are no humans under the age of 20. Strangely it is set in 2021.
Of course, it isn’t all that bad but here in Seattle, but I truly haven’t seen anyone pregnant in years. Even at my church, I haven’t seen a child under two years old in quite some time.
Sara lives in the suburbs but agreed.
It has been eerily quiet.
When the waitress returned, I had to tell her how thrilled we were to see her. I wanted her to understand why we might appear strange and overwhelmingly present and loving with her during our dinner. “Between the two of us, we have six children,” Sara confessed, “and we both love being mothers.”
The waitress said people have been so kind. She shared a story, how early in her pregnancy, a woman asked what her favorite meal at the restaurant was as she tried to decide on her order. The guest kept vacillating between items, saying their names and the food that was in the dish. Our pregnant server was not showing then, but certainly feeling nauseous. As the guest named each item on the menu, the new mother felt her stomach shoot into her throat. She blurted “I don’t have a favorite right now because I’m pregnant!”
The waitress blushed and the guest clapped her hands, squealed and answered “I’m Greek!” As if that solved everything.
The guest explained that in her tradition, she could guess the sex of the baby if she smelled the woman’s hair.
Our server told us the guest was quite short so she knelt down on the ground before her so the guest could sniff her scalp.
I thought about how intimate a moment that is. What a thing to ask. But I also know the impulse, the desire to bless. I think this is what the guest wanted to do. This is what so many of these customs are about…and if you don’t do them, you bring the opposite of blessing upon the person. She wanted to bless this young mother, and her child is some way.
“It would be lovely if we could rediscover our power to bless one another,” poet John O’Donohue wrote in his book, “To Bless the Space Between Us.” When I read this, I felt it in my bones.
Blessing others, or actually speaking aloud what you see as good or hopeful for one’s life, is a kind of a prayer. It is helping another see God’s beauty and promise. There is a power in speaking and hearing these words aloud. It is as if at the very moment you are describing the world, you also speak it into being. By shining light, we all see more clearly.
The guest got it wrong. She said the woman would have a boy. She is having a girl. Our server blamed the mistake on the fact that she had freshly washed hair that day. She understood the honor and blessing that occurred between herself and the patron.
I wish I had been bolder. I wish I had given her my own blessing. Or even just asked her name.
For now, I will pray my blessing from afar, as God knows.
May both she and her baby grow in wisdom and stature and find favor with God and man. (Luke 2)
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Lovely writing, inspirational ponder, joyful blessing for your readers. Blessings and take care
Lovely writing and insights as always Shemaiah!
Having lived in the PNW, I can very much relate to the sense that there are few babies and even fewer families of 3+ children. It’s hard to appreciate how much their absence changes a society.
As parents of young children, living there, I frequently felt the sense that I needed to apologize for bringing children into public places, even places ostensibly welcoming to kids, because of the overwhelming sense that for patrons and staff alike they’re begrudgingly accepted but really an unwelcome bother.
I can say, having moved to the suburbs of Texas during Covid lockdowns, that that sense is entirely a regional issue.
Blessings to you and your family.