Waterbeds

You know, the amazing thing about babies is that they are so elemental. For example, I always thought babies smelled like baby powder and lotion…you know, that powdery, soft smell. They don’t. They smell like poop and vomit. I remember thinking, when Ben was born, Oh my god, everyone else’s babies smell nice and mine smells like poop and vomit — aka, rancid milk. However, I soon learned that what I thought were real babies were actually showcase babies. Meaning that most parents were smart enough to only hand over their tiny one when it actually smelled decent, such as right after a bath, and that the other 99% of the time, those babies smelled like poop and vomit too. It’s life. We don’t come out smelling like roses, and anyone who has seen a baby suck up a booger like it was candy, or delicately put a finger in a big, orange milk poop and swish it around and then try to either smear it on every available surface or put it in its mouth, or both, is fully aware of the down-to-earth elemental nature of babies.

This begins in the womb.

I am pregnant, in case anyone doesn’t know yet, and I’m a little over 4 1/2 months along. I started feeling the new baby swim around several weeks ago, which was much earlier than I felt Ben, but that’s pretty normal. Anyway, last night I was talking to my mom, who of course asked, “And how’s that baby?” you know, like I have a conversation with the little tadpole in my womb every day. Everyone asks this. People I hardly know ask “How the baby is,” like I can give a report. “Oh, fine, really working on making those earbuds,” or “tiny little testes or ovaries formed today, looking good.” Anyway, one of the many interesting things about being pregnant, other than watching your body stretch to unbelievable proportions, is that bodily functions affect more than just you. (Some bodily functions affect everyone in the room, but that’s another story). So, whenever I have gas, I feel the baby swimming around like “Help! Help! Get me out of here!” (sometimes the people in the room say that too) and it’s pretty much the same story with bowel movements and other savory bodily functions. I feel the baby most, however, when I pee.

So my mom asks me how the baby is, and in a burst of honesty, I say, “Fine. I really feel the baby move alot when I have to pee.” I’m not sure why I have these kinds of outbursts, which frequently happen in crowded situations and cause everyone in the room to freeze. Once I made a loud, blatantly sexual remark while riding the subway in Japan. I had forgotten that I was there for a conference, and just that once the entire car was full of English-speaking ESL teachers. Everyone in the car paused for a breath, looked at each other and cracked up. All I could say was, “Ohmigosh I forgot you all could speak English!” which made everyone laugh harder.

I’ve retained this talent in the English-speaking world, too.

So my mom pauses for a moment and then starts to laugh (she knows me). “When you have to pee?” she repeats. “Yeah,” I say. “When I have to pee, the baby gives me some good kicks, like, what the heck are you doing up there?” and my mom says, “Why?” Which makes me pause. Why indeed? “I think it’s a nice, soft bladder to lie on when it’s full,” I reply. And Marti, grinning from across the room, adds, “Like a waterbed. You’re taking away its nice waterbed and its kicking you for it.”

So babies spent nine months listening to the sounds of digestion, farting, peeing, pooping and mama’s heartbeat. Why wouldn’t they be elemental? It’s perfectly natural. What I’m waiting for is a machine that simulates those sounds — not just the heartbeat, but a “baby listens to the soothing sound of mama pooing” or “the sound of morning sickness to quiet your colicky one.” Probably never going to happen. We like to pretend that babies smell like baby powder and respond to the sound of a mother’s “heartbeat.” It’s all a part of humanity’s big farce — you know, the one where we pretend we don’t stink or pick our noses when we drive. But I suppose that’s just the way life is… a little pretending can go a long way.