The Post Office

Today I stood in the Post Office waiting for Oliver to have his Passport photo taken.

Ahead of us in the queue was a heavily pregnant woman. It felt like yesterday that I was in that position, so I knew better than to comment. Armed with a full belly, tired feet and stressed knees, I know the last thing I wanted to talk about when I was 30+ weeks pregnant was how HUGEEEEEEE I was.
The little old lady behind me, however, couldn’t help herself.

“Wow! You have a huge belly! Are you carrying twins!?” She exclaimed.

I flinched from the memory of being asked this myself, and wound myself up waiting for the expectant mother to let loose.

Instead, she smiled sweetly, and softly said “No, just one baby boy. A big one though I think!”.

The pair of them exchanged pleasantries about the beauty of pregnancy for a few minutes before the Mother-to-be grabbed the old lady’s hand and pressed it to her swollen stomach with a look of excitement on her face.
“Did you feel that?? ” She asked, “He can’t stop kicking me today and he’s getting so strong!”

The old lady didn’t answer. She didn’t nod. She didn’t laugh.

I looked closer and realized she was tearing up while gently rubbing the woman’s belly in complete awe.

They exchanged a look that only parents can understand. The look said “I am a Mum”, “Humans are incredible” and “I once felt that myself, when my child was a baby too”, all at the same time.

A stack of toys fell over behind me while I was watching on, and I spun to find the culprit was just a little girl of barely two years old. She smiled cheekily while her Mum picked up all the toys, apologizing to fellow customers – in particular a young man holding a hand full of packages. He bent down and helped her, explaining he knew exactly how she felt as he has a daughter who often did this too.
They laughed and moved on, thinking nothing more of their conversation and getting back to their own daily tasks.

I looked down at Ollie, who was patiently watching on while sucking on the strap of his pram harness, and gave him a tickle. He giggled and it made me happy.

In fact, the whole trip to the Post Office made me happy.
I feel so blessed to live in a community where such everyday occurances can bond strangers together in a special and natural way.
I love that going to the Post Office here means baby bumps, cheeky smiles, reminiscent moments and giggly kids.
Children are marvelous. They just are.