Baby Shower, Last Part

Friday afternoon, I glanced into the mirror without enthusiasm. Who cared what I looked like, anyway? I was fat and ungainly. I waddled, and the lipstick I had applied underscored the blotches on my skin. I wondered if these women would make fun of me.

Peggy was the first to arrive. She brought a large package, wrapped in blue and green paper with tiny yellow cars and trains printed on it. Mother Towne took the present and put it onto the coffee table. Soon other women arrived, each bringing presents. The gaily colored heap on the table lightened my mood, and Peggy’s friendly, cheerful chatter made me feel wanted and appreciated. I didn’t understand everything she said, but when we started talking about the babies and our pregnancies, I understood most. 

Women surrounded me, several of them my husband’s cousins. They complimented me on my English (which wasn’t so good), on my clothes (which made me look like a butterball), and on my hair (which was stringy).  My dark mood lifted and I returned the friendly smiles of my new cousins and friends.

Mother Towne had come up with simple games. Everybody cut a piece of string to guess how big my belly was. Peggy came the closest and won a small prize, a pair of earrings. For another game, we had to come up with baby-related words for every letter in my name. I couldn’t finish that game, but it didn’t matter. Everybody was laughing and talking.

When the games were over, I sat on a chair in the middle of the room and opened the presents. I received several packages of disposable diapers. Other presents held little boy suits in blue, yellow and green, and booties (a new word I learned,) bibs, bottles, and blankets. The American blankets were lovely, soft and pastel colored.

Mother Towne wrote down everybody’s presents so I could send a thank you note later, and then little sandwiches beckoned with cheeses and meats.

My heart grew lighter. This new place would be my and my child’s home, and it was good to be here.

Later I packed away my new treasures next to the things that had come from Germany. I realized that my life from now on would be just like the baby things in the drawer, a mix of the good things I had brought from Germany, added to the good things I acquired right here, in Colorado.

The Baby Shower, Part 2

After church we drove home along a wide street flanked by low, stretched-out buildings. which looked like I had landed in a Wild West movie set. We were home in no time, and I wondered why we hadn’t walked. True, it was March and snow still crowded the mostly snow-free streets, but it hadn’t been that far. In Germany, no on would drive such a short way. But I wasn’t in Germany anymore, and my baby would be born here. Which reminded me of the baby shower. I’d never hear of parties for people who had babies before. In Germany, after the baby was born, friends would stop by with a present, but not before, and not with a party.

Before I came to Colorado, I didn’t know what life would be like in the United States, and I wanted to be prepared, so I had mailed the baby clothes my sister had given me from her toddler to my future home. Also, I thought having baby clothes from home would make it seem as if I were still there, not in a strange country, cut off from my three sisters and my mother.

My thoughts returned to the baby shower. At my in-laws’ home we exited the car. I turned to Verna. “The people who come will bring presents? Are they for the baby or for the mother?” I asked.

Mother Towne turned into the driveway. She said, “They are for the baby, so you are prepared in case he comes early. And, don’t worry. You will have fun.”

But my sisters wouldn’t be there and my mother couldn’t attend the birth. I wondered if I ever again would have fun.

When I decided to follow Gary to his country, I had been full of enthusiasm. I knew I would be happy in Colorado, and my child would grow up to be an American. But now all of it felt wrong. I was living with strangers in a strange land, and Gary wasn’t there to comfort me. I wished I were home.

Chicken Soup

On my first time in an American grocery store, I browsed the meat section and found just what I needed. And it was so much cheaper than in Germany. I proudly carried home a package of chicken hearts, necks, gizzards, and livers to make a wonderful, warm soup for that night.

Again culture shock set in when I presented my new father-in-law with my home-cooked chicken soup. He appreciated it, I could tell, but his eyes were wide in surprise, and he ate very little. 

The next morning the sun shone onto two inches of fresh snow making the small town look as if it were covered with a clean, white feather blanket.

By the time Gary came home four months later, I had weathered a ‘baby shower,’ an unfamiliar custom during which I received gifts for the new baby and made new friends from the church and the neighborhood.

 

Verna is in the back, and Art is kneeling next to Daniel. Dennis and Marja are standing in front of their grandmother.

I had also gotten to know scores of my husband’s aunts, uncles, and cousins. 

And I had given birth to my firstborn son, not at all by myself, but with the help of my new parents. My new Mom and Dad, maybe as culture shocked as I, nevertheless stood by me, helped and guided me through the pitfalls of cultural assumptions, and until they passed away, were my American parents and my best friends.

Tomorrow I'll tell you about the baby shower.

The Grocery Store

One morning I wandered down to main street to shop for supper for me and Art. I was walking because I didn’t have a driver’s license, I needed the exercise in my seven-month pregnant state, and I was used to walking, since I had walked a lot in Germany.

I was curious what I would find in the grocery store here. The shelves were crowded with strange and unknown items. I picked up boxes and cans to read the labels and sometimes still didn’t understand what was in them. What was Chili? It looked like brown mush. Was it sweet? Some kind of chocolate cereal?

Another thing I wondered about were the people. Where was everybody? In Germany you can’t go into a store without having to jostle around people and wait in long lines, but here, especially this time of day, the store was almost empty. The few women in the store smiled at me and asked if I were Mr. Towne’s new daughter-in-law.

I had a choice to resent this gossipy town and consider the ladies’ friendly inquiries as an intrusion, but decided instead to think of them as trying to be friendly. I reminded myself that Americans are a lot more friendly than Germans. 

Tomorrow will be more about food!

Learning English

Art Towne with Baby Daniel

Art Towne was a tall, spare, quiet man. But it was easy to be around him. The quiet times with him were comfortable, and when he talked to me, he spoke clearly and slowly. After Gary left, I cleaned up the kitchen and Art made himself comfortable in the living room. I joined him there and together we watched the news on TV. Or at least, I tried to watch!

I thought I spoke English pretty well, but now I hardly understood anything the newscaster said. He spoke way too quickly, and the kind of news he brought was strange. I didn’t know anything about this country and especially not about this part of Colorado.

So I made it my goal to learn English as quickly as I could. And I was lucky. The next day, Art went to work and I was alone in the house. I surfed the TV channels when I came upon something familiar. Star Trek! I had watched that in Germany almost every week, and I could remember the story lines. So every afternoon at 2:00 PM I turned on the TV and watched Star Trek. I loved listening to Mr. Spock and Captain Kirk in English, and I could tell my understanding of spoken English was quickly improving. However, it still took me almost the whole time my husband was away to learn to understand television news.