Losing My S

Mom called me today to see how my speech went yesterday. I had to present a Song of Expectation. I am not the most seasoned public speaker. And I should have known that I was headed for trouble when I felt weepy on about three different occasions during the morning service leading up to my part. They were all pretty standard stuff, like passing the peace. I am sure that there were a few people thinking who is this person and why does she have tears in her eyes.

I inherited the ability to cry at the drop of a hat from my mother. On the other hand, I have been known to be a little detached and able to hold things together. When we were freshman, Shannon liked to say the country song “She Never Cried When Old Yeller Dies” was about me. So I am not always a complete mess in life. But with the increased level of hormones, I was primed and ready for crying. Plus my cold from the last week also had my sinus open and ready to flow.

As I gave my tiny little speech, I considered looking up mid-stream and thanking my hormones for making me so emotional. But I kept my head down and somehow made it through. Usually I am much better with speaking, but for some reason announcing to a room full of people that you are pregnant is a little overwhelming. I made it back to my seat, only to want to crumple and sob in the pew. Henry and I exchanged a few notes about why I was crying. My only answer was “I am pregnant and you have a gazillion extra hormones surging through your body.”

Eventually I asked him to leave the room to find me a tissue. I had a huge gathering of snot on the end of my nose. Uggh! What a wreck. The irony is that as part of the three essays for my tobacco project, I wrote about growing up at my childhood church, I was allergic to the dusty brown shag rug. Each Sunday I would find myself trying to not lose my snot before the end of class. Sorry, I know that is really gross. But the irony was not lost on me. Maybe I should have left that memory buried. Forget being totally open and honest in your art.

When we left Sunday’s service, I told Amy that I was not speaking again until after I gave birth. Later, I thought of one way I would consider another pre-labor appearance: If I could leave the stage through a hole in floor and then be wheeled out in a large black box by a huge entourage so that no one can see me. Just like Prince at all of his concerts.

I do have a few upcoming workshops at Paper Source. My cut-off date for teaching is St. Patty’s Day until resuming again in the fall. I am pretty sure that I can keep it together as I talk about setting eyelets, embossing and double-sided tape. At least, let’s hope.

This is my speech from Sunday. On the surface, not a real tear-jerker. Oh well…

As we enter 2009, I can say with great confidence that I will accomplish at least one of my New Year’s Resolutions – motherhood.

I selected “This Will Be Our Year” as a song that represents Henry and I entering into this New Year and extremely different phase of our lives. After eight years of marriage, we forge ahead together on this life-changing journey called parenthood.