Drowning in Lentil Soup

DROWNING IN LENTIL SOUP

If my brother is in my Mother's stomach, then where does the lentil soup go? My Mother had just finished her bowl of hot soup, and I was staring at her swollen stomach. With each spoonful of soup, she ate, I winced, thinking of my baby brother swimming for dear life in that cauldron called her stomach.

I knew her stomach was really big, but was it big enough to hold a baby and all that hot soup?

I should never have asked her where I came from. Prior to my asking, I was comfortable with a babies delivery by a giant, white Stork. Someone told me about babies being found in a cabbage patch. Even at a young and vulnerable age, I was somewhat skeptical about the garden beginnings. I cannot recall when I asked my mother about birth. I guess I asked since my mom and dad, and all my relatives were talking about a baby coming. Words such as pregnancy and delivery dates were meaningless to a young child. I saw my mother and her belly. I believe it was her enormous belly that prompted my inquiry.

My mother told me that my baby brother was in her stomach. For a little child, the imagery is full of danger. How do you breathe in there? How do you eat? Most of all, how do you get out.

Getting out of the stomach may be the most incomprehensible event. Did the doctor just cut open the stomach, reach in and take the baby out? Even if a mother chanced identifying the vagina as the exit, there was no way a child could reconcile toilet function with the birth of a baby. Phooey! Gross!

We are still left with the dual functioning stomach - food storage and baby brooder. Fortunately, most children do not ask about the food function. If they did, mothers would be required to recognize the possible existence of a womb or uterus, or perhaps, a "special place” just below the belly button. Once another compartment is identified, the confusion can be eliminated. Without some attempt at clarifying the mysteries of birth, a child must wish for their mother to starve for nine months.

"I hope mommy doesn't drink a lot today, or my baby will drown." That night my Mother called me into her room. She was lying in bed. I came over to her bed, and she raised her nightgown to reveal her stomach. She pointed to her left side and said “look the baby is kicking.” My mom took my hand and placed it on the kicking spot. Thank God. My brother survived the lentil soup.

Several other times, my mother had me touch the kicking spots. Sometimes when I felt the "leg" kick, I was certain that the baby was fighting for life. If the "leg" kick was at the top of the swollen stomach, that meant the baby's head was at the bottom - right in the middle of lunch!

By the way, how did my Mother know it was a leg and not an arm, or elbow? How could she tell? She couldn't! It was an educated guess. It may not have been a guess at all, but rather a Mother's need to answer the unanswerable queries of a child who would believe anything a Mother said.

Pregnancies and birth are unique and even magical. For the young child, the magic is gone, because mothers can account for everything. At times the accounting can be stressful. As a teacher and source of knowledge, mothers have no equal. The child is the ultimate student.

Tom Golden, 2021