Pregnancy and the
Poncho
My wife, Cindy, was pregnant with our first child. As all women, she
blossomed. I know she felt fat and ugly because she would sidle up to me and
say, “I’m fat and ugly.” (A hint?) I would tell her that she looked beautiful
to me, as a pregnant woman should look to her husband. Cindy was carrying our baby,
and that alone would have made her beautiful.
Her blossoming eventually began to evolve to look as though she was
smuggling watermelons. She was always looking clothing that we could afford and
that fit her reasonably well. Her hands and fingers began to swell. She had to
remove her wedding band and engagement ring.
One day I saw that she was crying. I asked her why? She said, “Every time
I go out, I feel that everyone is looking at me, pregnant and no wedding band. Then,
being pregnant and not being married carried a stigma. I held her for a few
minutes, then said, “Let’s go shopping.”
“Why? I just told you I didn’t want to be out in public like this.” She
was about to start crying again.
“Let’s see if we can find a wedding band we can afford.” She smiled and
we drove down off the mountain. I believe that we ended up in Fisher’s Big Wheel. We knew we didn’t
have enough money to hit the real jewelry
stores. She looked at several rings, before finding one that she liked. It was a
gold band with a lacy engraving on it. She slipped it on her finger. She was
satisfied with the fit, the look, and being pregnant. I believe that it is
still in her jewelry box. The jewelry box is much like she left it, waiting for
my kids to delve into it and divide the treasures inside.
She continued to blossom. It was long into the winter season. None of her
coats still fit her to keep her warm. Her mother, Retha, made her a lined
poncho. It was orange tweed-looking material held closed with loop-and-button type
fasteners. Retha lined it with a lighter orange material. It kept her warm
through the coldest weather. (I bought a eiderdown car coat. She wouldn’t wear
it. She was too warm when she had it on.
There were several photographs of Cindy wearing the orange cape. When she
saw the photos afterward, she said that she reminded herself of a pumpkin. She
never wore it again; after the birth from our daughter Amanda.
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