The mother-to-be, as limned in the great glossy pages of ladies' magazines, is a veritable vision of delight. She is tastefully referred to as The Lady in Waiting, even occasionally as A Sacred Vessel; never said to be pregnant, she is merely awaiting The Experience. While awaiting, she does marvelous things like work in the garden; in her superbly tailored slacks and shirt, she looks jaunty enough for a cruise; nothing could ever make her nauseated. Or she finishes the velvet slippers she is whipping up for Dad; all embroidery done during The Period of Expectancy is performed under...
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