You can’t blame hormones for everything

I’ve been a lot more hormonal this pregnancy and postpartum than I recall being before.

(Patient Husband, this is your cue NOT to say, “HAH!…I mean, do you really think so, sweetie?”)

After the birth, I was definitely flying on the hormones (Life felt good! I wanted to use italics and lots of exclamation points!!!)

Day three, of course, I felt weepy and fragile. But still hormonally-insane, ready to brag on my baby about everything right down to the color of his poop.

Anyhow, I was relaxing in bed and noticing how much brighter the bedroom had become. Thinking back to before the birth, I pictured the room as darker. I’ve got angel statues on the dresser (don’t feign shock — you knew I had angels on the dresser, and on the walls, and on the shelves, and hanging in the windows, and…)

Ahem. The angel statues on the dresser were glimmering in the sunlight. The crib, which is white, gleamed brightly, and so did the white changing table.

I thought to myself, What a difference these hormones make! My eyes tend to change a bit during pregnancy anyhow, so gleaming things seem in higher relief, but this was the first time the effect had gone universal and persistent afterward.

Cue a lovely feeling: My baby is born, and the world is, indeed, a brighter place.


While I was basking in the goodness of having made a better world, my Patient Husband entered the bedroom. “You notice something different?” When I shook my head, he pointed. “The screen fell out of the window.”

And so, you see, you cannot blame hormones for everything. The room looked brighter not because I gave birth to the Star Childe, or because I’m viewing the world through prolactin-colored glasses, but because when it rained, the screen blew down and more light was getting into the room.

Oh well. It was nice while it lasted.


  1. xdpaul

    You know what, though? That makes it more beautiful to me. Instead of some personal vision that only you experienced, the fallen screen allowed everyone to share the same view. Because you didn’t have the physical cue that the screen was gone, God gifted you with being able to see the glory of his creation shining upon your child and your life.

    No one else could see what you saw, because they allowed the fact of the missing screen to afford them an excuse to have a “reasonable” explanation for the ethereal glow.

    Given the choice between:

    “Oh, the screen is gone, so the light is different.”


    “Creation is glowing, and I can’t comprehend its mystery.”

    I’ll take the latter. I think it is closer to the truth, anyhow.

  2. philangelus

    Ooh, I like that. Maybe sometimes we do over-rationalize creation.

    And God never does just one thing when He can accomplish two with the same action. 🙂

  3. whiskers

    Gaaah! Well, what you see is what you make of it. Sometimes it takes being wacked on the head, (with a falling screen), to see what’s in front of you…

    congrats on your baby! And on your screen induce epiphany…

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