Are you pregnant?

Here is my latest question for boomerchicks as we all are, well beyond that mysterious realm of menopause. Did your mother ever interrogate you that classic poser,”Are you pregnant?” My late mum had some quite unendearing ways she used to handle her three teenage female sprogs.

At that time, my older sister and I had met some fetching suitors, who became our husbands later, marching down the aisle after a church wedding. Ah, the handsome bridegrooms, the brides in white, the very tasteful wedding receptions. My younger sister’s ceremony was performed by a wedding celebrant, by then our mother may have been resigned to the inevitable. Young love was so sweet, now we can look back on some attitudes of the past.

“Are you pregnant?” The question that she wished to want to know. Was it reverse contraception, or was it because Mother wished to label us as her family had labelled her for being pregnant at our age? Hasty shotgun weddings were regular church events then. Our parents’ wedding photos displayed the bride clutching a large bouquet over her pregnant belly. Lots of ‘early’ babies arrived on the planet, and the maternity units were bulging with the baby boomers.

How did you relate to your mother-in-law? I can say she was even worse, tirades of verbal abuse of the chicks who married her sons. We all tried to ignore her. In their family sage, she was nine months pregnant when she finally landed the golden wedding ring only one week before my now unlamented ex-husband announced his birth. Some of the marriages of the parents of the boomers were very bitter battlefields. So, Pappas don’t preach!

My father aimed to prevent any teenage pregnancies in his gaggle of females in his own inoffensive manner. My younger sister met her beloved when they were both 12 years old, such cuteness. Her intended used to visit, engaging in chatting on the couch, supervised by mother and dad, who preferred a snooze in his armchair. At a reasonable hour, my father would awaken, saying, “Is he still here. I’’ll drive you home.” Father would pick up his car keys and drive the swain to his abode, away from her single bed and their romantic notions. Dad was only too aware of what young men wanted to do to beautiful femmes, as my sisters were.

Mother, in contrast, had a more direct approach. One sunny summer morning, I had been fully occupied as normal in my bedroom, surrounded by my heaps of books and essays we all hand wrote then. Taking off my customary thick spectacles, I emerged to sit in the sun, to collate some more learned thoughts, always focused on education. Ma walked past me, on her way to the washing line, all sheets snowy white in the great Australian sunny days.

Her usual denigrating comment appeared, “You’ll be a fat old maid with fat hips if you don’t stop reading all those old books.” Silence was my best option. Then, “Are you pregnant?”Having emphasised that I was not expecting, I retreated to my realm of studies.

These days, it is each to their own. Young teenage girls who are pregnant do need some understanding guidance about their choices, and any support they can acquire for their pregnancies and early mothering. The males concerned may or may not be any more than very nervous boys, who can measure up to the consequences of sweet young love. Some people these days never feel the need to pop a ring on anyone, we can all relate. Couples still get hitched, supplying their own flower girls or page boys.

Maybe improving education about all these matters still needs to improve. It is each to their own choice these days. My sisters and I were basically too intimidated to get pregnant before we wed. So, boomer babes, are you pregnant? Guess witches of the week are safe on first….