"Hormones" is a Four Letter Word

When Pam was pregnant with Stephanie (I think?) my mom and I used to visit her during the day over at their apartment in Jefferson Valley. All of the apartments in this complex had orange doors, and Pam had decided that theirs needed a paint job. So one day when we pulled in for a visit, there she was, big belly, bathrobe and slippers, orange paint, and a big mess. There was paint on the carpet (the door opened inward), and bugs stuck in the wet paint on the door. Pam was crying. Okay, so I was just an obnoxious teenager....it was all I could do not to laugh. It was just so TRAGIC, but really it was not that big of a deal.

For years I kept that picture in my head, not really understanding what it was all about...until I got pregnant. I was just 8 or 9 weeks along with Emma when Pam and the family came out to Michigan for a summer visit. We were going at it full speed, driving all over, making the most of the week. I was having fun, but it was dampened quite a bit by nausea, fatigue, and general grumpiness. One day when we were shopping for lunch supplies, I was wandering up and down the aisles, not able to find anything I thought I could stomach. On the verge of tears, I came around the corner and bumped into Pam. She looked at me and said, "You know, mornings are not your best time." Now, at the moment, I didn't make the connection...if I had, I might not have said, "Thank you for that information!" and walked away in a snit. I really hurt her feelings.

Later on, I apologized and blamed it on the hormones. We laughed about how surreal it is to be pregnant, and how everything seems so out of proportion with reality. Over the course of the next few months, she got nearly daily phone calls from me, as I walked a mile in her orange-paint-stained slippers.