She’d just had a baby—and she was discussing peanut-butter sandwiches
As I sipped the orange juice that had been thrust into my hand, a woman who’d just given birth was on the phone, presumably with her mother or mother-in-law, discussing what her other children ate for lunch, who was going to pick them up and bring them wherever they needed to go, and other mundane matters pertaining to her family at home.
Having no children at the time, I remember being struck by the juxtaposition. Here was a woman who’d just brought a human being into the world, an action of cosmic proportions, and she was talking about peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches for her toddler. I wasn’t being judgmental, I was just absolutely fascinated by interplay of the awesome and the humdrum.
When my oldest child was born it was all drama and mood music and fireworks. The milestone was replete with all things new mom, including a birth plan, fresh onesies, and a stroller that cost more than the second-hand car we once owned. It was an event, it was new, it was all in the realm of the incredible, with no mundane intertwined.
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