Pregnancy Wishes Quotes

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If I had my life to live over... Someone asked me the other day if I had my life to live over would I change anything. My answer was no, but then I thought about it and changed my mind. If I had my life to live over again I would have waxed less and listened more. Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy and complaining about the shadow over my feet, I'd have cherished every minute of it and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was to be my only chance in life to assist God in a miracle. I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed. I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded. I would have eaten popcorn in the "good" living room and worried less about the dirt when you lit the fireplace. I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth. I would have burnt the pink candle that was sculptured like a rose before it melted while being stored. I would have sat cross-legged on the lawn with my children and never worried about grass stains. I would have cried and laughed less while watching television ... and more while watching real life. I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband which I took for granted. I would have eaten less cottage cheese and more ice cream. I would have gone to bed when I was sick, instead of pretending the Earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren't there for a day. I would never have bought ANYTHING just because it was practical/wouldn't show soil/ guaranteed to last a lifetime. When my child kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, "Later. Now, go get washed up for dinner." There would have been more I love yous ... more I'm sorrys ... more I'm listenings ... but mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute of it ... look at it and really see it ... try it on ... live it ... exhaust it ... and never give that minute back until there was nothing left of it.
Erma Bombeck (Eat Less Cottage Cheese And More Ice Cream Thoughts On Life From Erma Bombeck)
Momentarily forgetting this wasn’t one of her She-wolves, Sissy automatically teased, “Good thing my brother likes women with meat on their bones ’cause your ass is gonna be gettin’ wide.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wished she could take them back. But without missing a beat, Jessie shot back, “Cool. Now I can start wearing your jeans. I thought that was only going to be possible during the late stages of the pregnancy.
Shelly Laurenston (The Mane Attraction (Pride, #3))
A day of birth is a glorious event.
Lailah Gifty Akita (Pearls of Wisdom: Great mind)
Whatever may be your desire to accomplish great deeds, the deep silence of pregnancy never comes to you! The event of the day sweeps you along like straws before the wind whilst ye lie under the illusion that ye are chasing the event,—poor fellows! If a man wishes to act the hero on the stage he must not think of forming part of the chorus; he should not even know how the chorus is made up.
Friedrich Nietzsche (The Dawn of Day)
And she said, "A part of me wishes you wanted kids, because my kids make me so happy. But...I think in order to be happy like I'm happy, you need different things. And I want you to have whatever those things are." And I started crying, then. Because somebody understood.
Taylor Jenkins Reid (Daisy Jones & The Six)
Arabella squinted back. “You’re almost nine months pregnant. Shouldn’t you be soft, and happy, and glowing? When are we gonna see some glow?” Arabella clearly had a death wish. Nevada finished her pickle spear and licked honey off her fingertips. “I’m the size of a house, the kid inside me keeps kicking me in the kidneys, I have to pee every five minutes, my legs cramp, and I can’t get out of bed by myself. I have to roll to the side like a walrus, which is harder right now since my husband is somewhere in the Russian Empire and he isn’t there to steady me. And how was your day of being young, beautiful, skinny, and carefree? Why aren’t you glowing?
Ilona Andrews (Emerald Blaze (Hidden Legacy, #5))
Maintain a persistent focus of what you want. You will attract the divine force to bring it into existence.
Lailah Gifty Akita (Think Great: Be Great! (Beautiful Quotes, #1))
The grace of fulfilled dream is phenomenal.
Lailah Gifty Akita (Think Great: Be Great! (Beautiful Quotes, #1))
This is what the Law of Surprise states. It is the child's, not the parent's, consent which confirms the oath, which proves that the child was born under the shadow of destiny.
Andrzej Sapkowski (The Last Wish (The Witcher, #0.5))
Some women wish the pregnancy tests also told them who the fathers are.
Mokokoma Mokhonoana (P for Pessimism: A Collection of Funny yet Profound Aphorisms)
There would be, half a million things, I could do, yet I don’t know, what would be so? When I will see you, for the first time, calm, twined in your daddy’s arm, coming towards me, I could do, half a million things- caress your skin, fondle your chin, stroke though your limbs, smoothly touch your lips, and make my silent wishes, for your health and, your intellect. Half a million things, I could do, yet I don’t know, what would be so? When I will see you, for the first time, I could say, half a million things- call you my kid, read a fine script, whisper love in your ears, sing a hymn. Half a million things, I could say, yet I don’t know, what would be so? I fear though, what if I am unable to, do any of this, and all I end up with, is, just a knot of tears, loaded with, some of the most pure prayers, I have ever chaired. Half a million things, I could do and I could say, yet when it happens, little will my practice play. Half a million things, and I wouldn't know, how and where one begins.
Jasleen Kaur Gumber
Libby snorts. “You wish you knew how to roll a joint. God, I miss weed. The maternity books never prepare you for how badly you’re going to miss weed.” “Sounds like there’s a hole in the market,” I say. “I’ll keep an eye out.” “The Pothead’s Guide to Pregnancy,” Libby says. “Marijuana Mommy,” I reply. “And its companion, Doobie Daddies.
Emily Henry (Book Lovers)
There appears no assurance that in the times of our own grandchildren the world will contain viable populations of wild African Lions, Tigers, Polar Bears, Emperor Penguins, gorillas, or coral reefs. These are the animals expectant parents pain on nursery room walls. Their implied wish: to welcome precious new life in to a world endowed with the magnificence and delight and fright of companions we have traveled with since the beginning. Some people debate the “rights of the unborn” as though a human life begins at conception but we don’t need to concern ourselves with its prospects after birth. Raging over the divine sanctity of anyone else’s pregnancy is a little overwrought and a little too easy when nature itself terminates one out of four by the sixth week. There are much bigger, more compassionate pro-life fish to fry. Passing along a world that can allow real children to flourish and the cavalcade of generations to unfold, and the least to live in modest dignity would be the biggest pro-life enterprise we could undertake.
Carl Safina (The View from Lazy Point: A Natural Year in an Unnatural World)
Having a dream is like a pregnant woman waiting to have her baby delivered; everyone can see clearly that's got a baby inside of her womb;sometimes her close relations might wish to help out in carrying the pregnancy but no avail;even her husband feels to help her deliver the baby when he see's her honnie in pain the day of delivery. But after delivery everyone carries the baby for her Yeah;that's what it is peeps; someone out there is wailing to help carry out that your precious dream;but you need to deliver to them so they can see and help support. And I tell you;the world will carry what you deliver to them; cuz its called talent and its a gift from God.
Nitya Prakash
A late arrival had the impression of lots of loud people unnecessarily grouped within a smoke-blue space between two mirrors gorged with reflections. Because, I suppose, Cynthia wished to be the youngest in the room, the women she used to invite, married or single, were, at the best, in their precarious forties; some of them would bring from their homes, in dark taxis, intact vestiges of good looks, which, however, they lost as the party progressed. It has always amazed me - the capacity sociable weekend revelers have of finding almost at once, by a purely empiric but very precise method, a common denominator of drunkenness, to which everybody loyally sticks before descending, all together, to the next level. The rich friendliness of the matrons was marked by tomboyish overtones, while the fixed inward look of amiably tight men was like a sacrilegious parody of pregnancy. Although some of the guests were connected in one way or another with the arts, there was no inspired talk, no wreathed, elbow-propped heads, and of course no flute girls. From some vantage point where she had been sitting in a stranded mermaid pose on the pale carpet with one or two younger fellows, Cynthia, her face varnished with a film of beaming sweat, would creep up on her knees, a proffered plate of nuts in one hand, and crisply tap with the other the athletic leg of Cochran or Corcoran, an art dealer, ensconced, on a pearl-grey sofa, between two flushed, happily disintegrating ladies. At a further stage there would come spurts of more riotous gaiety. Corcoran or Coransky would grab Cynthia or some other wandering woman by the shoulder and lead her into a corner to confront her with a grinning imbroglio of private jokes and rumors, whereupon, with a laugh and a toss of her head, he would break away. And still later there would be flurries of intersexual chumminess, jocular reconciliations, a bare fleshy arm flung around another woman's husband (he standing very upright in the midst of a swaying room), or a sudden rush of flirtatious anger, of clumsy pursuit-and the quiet half smile of Bob Wheeler picking up glasses that grew like mushrooms in the shade of chairs. ("The Vane Sisters")
Vladimir Nabokov (American Fantastic Tales: Terror and the Uncanny from the 1940s to Now)
The man seemed not to have heard him. ‘At this life-giving time of the year, Professor Scrooge,’ said the pastor, clicking his pen, ‘it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight contribution to babes and adults, who lie languishing in hospitals and care facilities, standing on street corners and under bridges, or living alone at home during this time. Many are in need of blood transfusions or food or pregnancy care every day in our large community; many others – especially the elderly – are in want of comfort and cheer.’ ‘Are there no abortion clinics?’ asked Scrooge. ‘Plenty of clinics,’ said the pastor, clicking the pen tip in again. ‘And Euthanasia facilities?’ demanded Scrooge. ‘Are they still in operation?’ ‘They are. Still,’ returned the gentleman, ‘I wish I could say they were not.’ ‘Welfare and Food Stamps are in full swing, then?’ said Scrooge. ‘Both very busy.’ ‘Oh! I was afraid, from what you said at first, that something had occurred to stop them in their useful course,’ said Scrooge. ‘I’m very glad to hear it.’ ‘Under the impression that they scarcely furnish Christian cheer of mind or body to the multitude,’ returned the gentleman, ‘a few churches are endeavoring to raise a fund to provide those in need with medical care and food as well as the comfort of a human presence and the message of eternal life through Jesus. We choose this time to sow into others’ lives because it is a time, of all others, when we rejoice in the life God gave to us through His Son. What shall I put down – in time, money, or blood – for you?’ ‘Nothing!’ Scrooge replied. ‘You wish to give anonymously, then?’ ‘I wish to be left alone,’ said Scrooge.
Ashley Elizabeth Tetzlaff (An Easter Carol)
and by staff doctors, at least one of which resulted in a pregnancy. Earlier in the chain—on March 27—Walker, wary of the effect the scandal might have on his campaign, had written, “We need to continue to keep me out of the story as this is a process issue and not a policy matter.”1 Walker’s staff labored through the spring and summer to satisfy his wish. On September 2, Rindfleisch wrote, “Last week was a nightmare. A bad story every day on our looney bin. Doctors having sex with patients, patients getting knocked up. This has been coming for months and I’ve unofficially been dealing with it. So, it’s been crazy (pun intended).” Later, in an attempt to reassure a colleague on Walker’s staff, Rindfleisch somehow found it in herself to write: “No one cares about crazy people.”2 I began to rethink my determination not to write this book. I realized that my ten years of silence on the subject, silence that I had justified as insulation against an exercise in self-indulgence, was itself an exercise in self-indulgence. The
Ron Powers (No One Cares About Crazy People: The Chaos and Heartbreak of Mental Health in America)
When I arrived, I immediately saw the mother of an ex-boyfriend, the kind of ex-boyfriend that would make you want to look as good as possible if you ran into his mother at a shower when you were several months pregnant. She saw me, smiled politely, and made her way across the room to visit with me. We hugged, exchanged pleasantries, and caught up on what we’d both been doing. As we talked, I fantasized about her reporting to her son, my ex, the next day. Oh, you should have seen Ree. She was positively glowing! You should have seen how wonderful she looked! Don’t you wish you had married her? Deep into our small talk, I made mention of how long it had been since she and I had seen each other. “Well…I did see you recently,” she replied. “But I don’t think you saw me.” I couldn’t imagine. “Oh really?” I asked. “Where?” I hardly ever came to my hometown. “Well,” she continued. “I saw you pulling out of McDonald’s on Highway Seventy-five one morning a few weeks ago. I waved to you…but you didn’t see me.” My insides suddenly shriveled, imagining myself violently shoving breakfast burritos into my mouth. “McDonald’s? Really?” I said, trying my best to play dumb. “Yes,” my ex’s mother replied, smiling. “You looked a little…hungry!” “Hmmm,” I said. “I don’t think that was me.” I skulked away to the bathroom, vowing to eat granola for the rest of my pregnancy.
Ree Drummond (The Pioneer Woman: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels)
Cam closed the door and leaned back against it, letting his caressing gaze fall on the small, tense form of his wife. He knew little of these matters. In both Romany and gadjo cultures, pregnancy and childbirth were a strictly female domain. But he did know that his wife was uneasy in situations she had no control over. He also knew that women in her condition needed reassurance and tenderness. And he had an inexhaustible supply of both for her. “Nervous?” Cam asked softly, approaching her. “Oh no, not in the slightest; it’s an ordinary circumstance, and only to be expected after—” Amelia broke off with a little gasp as he sat beside her and pulled her into his arms. “Yes, I’m a bit nervous. I wish … I wish I could talk to my mother. I’m not exactly certain how to do this.” Of course. Amelia liked to manage everything, to be authoritative and competent no matter what she did. But the entire process of childbearing would be one of increasing dependence and helplessness, until the final stage, when nature took over entirely. Cam pressed his lips into her gleaming dark hair, which smelled like sweetbriar. He began to rub her back in the way he knew she liked best. “We’ll find some experienced women for you to talk to. Lady Westcliff, perhaps. You like her, and God knows she would be forthright. And regarding what you’re going to do … you’ll let me take care of you, and spoil you, and give you anything you want.” He felt her relax a little. “Amelia, love,” he murmured, “I’ve wanted this for so long.” “Have you?” She smiled and snuggled tightly against him. “So have I. Although I had hoped it would happen at a more convenient time, when Ramsay House was finished, and Poppy was betrothed, and the family was settled—” “Trust me, with your family there will never be a convenient time.” Cam eased her back to lie on the bed with him. “What a pretty little mother you’ll be,” he whispered, cuddling her. “With your blue eyes, and your pink cheeks, and your belly all round with my child …” “When I grow large, I hope you won’t strut and swagger, and point to me as an example of your virility.” “I do that already, monisha.” Amelia looked up into his smiling eyes. “I can’t imagine how this happened.” “Didn’t I explain that on our wedding night?” She chuckled and put her arms around his neck. “I was referring to the fact that I’ve been taking preventative measures. All those cups of nasty-tasting tea. And I still ended up conceiving.” “Rom,” he said by way of explanation, and kissed her passionately.
Lisa Kleypas (Seduce Me at Sunrise (The Hathaways, #2))
It was once recommended that women eat carrot seeds to stop pregnancy
Adam Anderson (Fun Facts to Kill Some Time and Have Fun with Your Family: 1,000 Interesting Facts You Wish You Know)
Rainer Maria Rilke wrote a series of letters to a young military officer who wished to be a poet. In one of them he responds to the young man’s lament that he had lost his belief in God: Why don’t you think of him as the one who is coming, who has been approaching from all eternity? … What keeps you from projecting his birth into the ages that are coming into existence, and living your life as a painful and lovely day in the history of a great pregnancy?13
David L. Bartlett (Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 4: Season after Pentecost 2 (Propers 17-Reign of Christ) (Feasting on the Word: Year A volume))
Pregnancies and births happen in their own time, regardless of our conscious wishes, hopes, efforts, and fantasies. We may decide we want a child and make every effort to have one, and yet, whether it happens or not is beyond the control of even the most desirous and diligent of couples. And even when a pregnancy does occur, when the surprise moment of conception is confirmed, doctors give us a due date which can only be an approximation, for when and how the baby arrives is also a matter beyond determination. For this reason, in my opinion, almost nothing more than a pregnancy and birth deserve to be called synchronistic: the random coincidence of one of millions of sperm meeting a particular egg, yet from this coincidence, which we do not ultimately control, grows all of life. Is there any more significant coincidence that we experience?
Robert Hopcke
He couldn’t resist smoothing his palm over her silky hair. Stroking her like that, over and over again filled him with peace. Concerns about his mill and Steafan and all that Wilhelm might expect from him floated away on a cloud of contentment. Until he felt warm wetness on his skin where her face nestled. “Are ye weeping?” “No,” she said, but her voice caught on a sob. “There,” he said, “now we have both told a lie to the other. We are even.” Whatever had her distraught, her heart wasn’t so heavy that she couldn’t give a small chuckle. “Maybe I’m crying just a little,” she said. “It’s fine, though. Don’t worry. Get some sleep.” “I canna. My da told me a good husband doesna lay his head down for the night if his household isna in order and his wife isna content.” “He sounds like a very responsible man. Like father, like son.” No one had given him as much to feel proud over as this woman. “I do my best to be like him. Now tell me what’s fashin’ you. Is it Steafan? Your eye? Are ye in pain?” Her head rocked on his arm. “No. It’s nothing. Really. Pregnancy can make a girl a little emotional. That’s all.” “Ye miss your home,” he guessed again, ignoring her excuses. “Are ye worrit over finding your box maker?” She was quiet for a moment. “I suppose you could say that.” “Dinna fash. I will do all I can to see you home safe.” “I know,” she said, but she didn’t sound happy.
Jessi Gage (Wishing for a Highlander (Highland Wishes Book 1))
What’s that?” Liv asked as he gave her the flower. She couldn’t tell if it was real or not but it had silky, periwinkle blue petals and a mild, sweet fragrance that reminded her of baby lotion. “Your answer,” Sylvan said. “If the results were negative, you would have received a white flower. If you were carrying a female baby, the flower would have been pink—that’s a very rare result indeed.” “But blue means…” Liv looked up at him, her heart pounding. “A little boy? I’m carrying a boy?” “You are,” Sylvan said gravely. “May I be the first to congratulate you, mate-of-my-kin, and wish you a safe and healthy pregnancy and delivery.” “Oh my God!” Liv was so excited she couldn’t speak. Instead she rushed forward and pulled him down into a hug. Sylvan was stiff at first, clearly surprised by her exuberance. But then he loosened up a little and hugged her back carefully. “Wait ‘til I tell Baird,” she exclaimed. “He’s going to be so surprised!” “He’ll be extremely pleased and so proud there’ll be no living with him.” Sylvan smiled when she finally let him go. “Are you going to tell him at once?” “Yes, him first and then the girls. Oh, Sophie’s going to be so excited to be an aunt!” “I’m excited to be a…what is your term for it?” “An uncle. You’ll be the baby’s uncle.” Liv grinned at him. “Oh, I have so much to do! And no time to do it.” “You have plenty of time,” Sylvan assured her. “According to the results and the size of the flower you received, you’re still in your first quadmester.” “My first what?” Liv frowned. “You mean trimester, right?” “No.” He shook his head. “Carrying a Kindred baby to term takes twelve of your Earth months, not just nine. So you see, Olivia, you have plenty of time to get everything done.” “Wow.” Liv was a little nonplussed. “Uh…a whole year, huh? You guys should really put that in the brochure.” “We don’t hide anything,” Sylvan protested. “You just have to ask about some things if you want to know.” Liv laughed. “All right—I’m so excited right now I don’t even care. Although by my eleventh or twelfth month I may want to shoot myself. Or Baird, for that matter.” Sylvan gave her one of his rare, one-sided smiles. “Go tell him now before you start wanting to shoot.” “I will.
Evangeline Anderson (Hunted (Brides of the Kindred, #2))
Yes, this... Urcheon... speaks the truth. Roegner did swear to give him that which he did not expect. It looks as if our lamented king was an oaf as far as a woman's affairs are concerned, and couldn't be trusted to count to nine. He confessed the truth on his death-bed, because he knew what I'd do to him if he'd admitted it earlier. He knew what a mother, whose child is disposed of so recklessly, is capable of.
Andrzej Sapkowski (The Last Wish (The Witcher, #0.5))
The majority of prosperous Florentine women did not breastfeed at all. Instead, their husbands made agreements with the spouses of the wet nurses who took over this task. Fathers were concerned that their wives’ milk might be polluted by having sex and, above all, by a new pregnancy. They wished however to become fathers again soon, as having several children increased their chances of having future heirs. It was important for men’s social status to have many legitimate offspring, whereas an intimate mother–child relationship in early years seemed to many of them to be of secondary importance. The rich fathers expected the parents of poorer families to abstain from sexual intercourse and inform them immediately if the wet nurse got pregnant again, which would result in the termination of the agreement.
Kia Vahland (The Da Vinci Women: The Untold Feminist Power of Leonardo's Art)
I don’t hold any ill will. When I was so sick during my pregnancy with my daughter Birdie, I told Eric, “I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.” And then I remembered, I don’t have any enemies, let alone a worst one. No, the people I want to focus on are Lesa, who was kind to me and went on to become a successful therapist, and you. If you are being bullied, whether it’s because you’re gay or someone decides they don’t like something about you, let me be the Lesa who says, “I see you.” You are perfectly made.
Jessica Simpson (Open Book)
I wish I’d fallen softly. Light and graceful like a feather drifting slowly to the earth on a warm and dreamy summer’s day. I wish that I’d landed softly too. But there is nothing soft or graceful about that devastating moment when the worst has come to pass. The unavoidable truth is that it is hard, cold and brutal. All that you know to be true and good in life shatters in an instant. You feel like a delicate pottery bowl violently tossed from your place of rest, watching yourself crash and scatter across the hostile dark earth. The sound is deafening. Time stops. Inside, the quiet ache of shock and heartbreak slowly makes its grip known. They cut deep, these jagged edges of broken sherds. You gasp for air hungrily, yet somehow forget how to breathe.
Jodi Sky Rogers (Mending Softly: Finding Hope & Healing After Ectopic Pregnancy Loss)
Her voice has given me a headache. I can feel the heat of her body through our clothes. It’s reminded me of just after Hannah was born, of those late-night phone calls where my sister cried and told me that she wished she had terminated the pregnancy. I don’t know why I wanted this. I didn’t know what to say. It’ll be all right. Women have babies all the time. I ask Hannah to get me water but Donato volunteers. “Silvia,” he calls out. “Come downstairs with me.” I feel every cell bristle. Of course, they are together, and why should that matter to me anyway? Hannah puts her head on my shoulder. “Do you think Silvia is very pretty?” Tiny lights strung across the terrace turn on and I can see her watery eyes. Below I hear Donato’s laugh. “She’s a lot older than him,” I say. “Only by five years.” Her body starts to shake, tears fall on my shoulder. “Hush,” I tell her. “Hush.” Instinctively I look around to see if any of their friends are watching. “Come on.” I pull her up from the settee. “Call us a ride, and I’ll get your backpack. We can pick up a pizza on the way home.” I wipe the smeared mascara from under her eyes and point her toward the stairs. I say goodbye to her friends, making up an excuse that Paul wants us home. He’s made dinner. I can tell Donato doesn’t believe this, but he doesn’t say so. When he kisses my cheek, I cannot help it, I press him against me. He feels broader than I thought he would, and that liquid fire at the center of me rejoices. In the cab Hannah gives in. She is bawling. “I miss Mom,” she chokes out. “I miss her so much.” Letting her drink was probably a bad idea, but isn’t she old enough to know her limit? Or at least learn what it is?
Liska Jacobs (The Worst Kind of Want)
Come to the kitchen. Have you had breakfast?” “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll save that for after we’ve talked a bit.” He filled the kettle and glanced over his shoulder. “Something about this little mission of yours upsetting your stomach?” “Something about two babies is upsetting my stomach. Double morning sickness. It’ll pass.” She sat down. “I’ve already thrown up this morning, so we’re safe for a while.” Cameron stared down at the kettle on the stove. She wouldn’t understand this, but he wished he could have been there for that. He’d like to be around for even the worst parts of the pregnancy; he’d like to be the one she complained to, blamed, criticized and harangued. Even though he was already getting plenty of that, he hated that she suffered her upset without his arms around her, comforting her as she calmed down. Crazy as it was, he wanted to watch her turn pea green, shoot for the bathroom, come out white as a sheet and fall into his arms. He’d like to be the partner, not the silent partner. He’d like to feel her big belly pressed up against him at night, waking him with the romping inside.
Robyn Carr (Paradise Valley)
But as he approached fifty, Kenny yearned to do something different. Someone told him that More Than Money—the same inheritors group Jeff Weissglass got involved with—was hiring an executive director. He landed the position and, in short order, discovered that his pregnant teens had at least one thing in common with these young heirs and heiresses: Society defined and stereotyped both groups by how much money they did or didn’t have. The foundations that funded adolescent pregnancy care assumed the girls were getting knocked up because they were poor, “which was not necessarily true,” Kenny says, whereas the inheritors were pegged as “entitled and spoiled and lazy—and there’s no basis for that.” The anti-inheritor bias proved so toxic that some of Kenny’s former colleagues shunned him after he took the new job. “They’re like, ‘What a sellout! What a cop-out! Why would you do that?’ ” he recalls. “What does it say about our culture that everyone wants to win the lottery in some way, shape, or form, and there’s a whole segment of our culture that hates people who win the big payout.” This is indeed a paradox. Oscar Mayer heir Chuck Collins gave away his $500,000 inheritance in 1986, when he was a young man. (Invested in the S&P 500, it would be worth about $14 million today.) He has since dedicated himself, through the Institute for Policy Studies, to educating the American public about inequality. His memoir, Born on Third Base, includes the following scene: Speaking to a crowd of about 350 people, he asks who among them feels rage toward the wealthiest 1 percent. Almost everyone raises a hand. He then asks, “How many of you wish you were in the wealthiest 1 percent?” They laugh, but again, almost everyone. “People are envious,” Kenny says. “And what you end up doing with envy is demeaning whoever it is that you envy, because they have what we think we deserve.” During his time at More Than Money, Kenny grew friendly with Paul Schervish, then the director of the Center on Wealth and Philanthropy, and when Schervish offered him the associate director job, Kenny jumped. He’d seen how inheritors grappled with their unearned fortunes. Now he wanted to better understand their parents. Havens was the numbers guy “and I was in charge of: ‘I’d like to know what these people are thinking, and nobody ever asks them.’ 
Michael Mechanic (Jackpot: How the Super-Rich Really Live—and How Their Wealth Harms Us All)
There are women who wish to become mothers but deeply fear the state of pregnancy and delivery, and therefore tend to avoid motherhood.
Orna Donath (Regretting Motherhood)
Part 1 A Woman is a Fate? Or a Bless? When a baby is girl is born, to some is a blessing. She will grow as wonderful woman, beautiful, with nice features and showers love as a daughter, a sister, as a wife, as a friend and as a mother. It is also luck, or a Mahalakshmi to the house. Some centuries back, and to some people when she is born, she is a fate. An ill fated to some in orthodox families and believe that she brings bad luck. So, there is this ritual in some places or villages where, when a new born baby girl will be poisoned to death upon her arrival on earth. It is brutal and devastating. Yes it is still happening till today. Where did this ritual came from? Who started it? Where was it written that the baby must be killed if it is a girl. And WHY? Has anyone thought, that it was a woman who carried her for 9 months, loved her from the day she is created in her womb, and the moment when she is born, the tear of a joy and her happiness the moment she sees her little tiny human girl arrived, and her dreams as mother and to love her all her life… will be no longer alive in the next few minutes? I have always respected woman, for uncountable reasons. As much as I am happy to see them successful, but it also worries me most of the time. 99.9% of it I am worried for them! The one who gave birth to us, is a woman. We also worship to a female God and beg her to show mercy on us. It is also a woman, who becomes a wife and satisfies a husband’s needs. But still, there are no respect shown to them despite knowing these basics. In some houses while her parents off to work, or being abandoned, or lets just say the parents passed. It is her responsibility to take care the rest of her family as the family head. When it comes to education, she is not safe to study among the boys, neither in higher education. Same goes to a woman at work. As she will have those wild eyes on her, she has to take care of her virginity, her womb, and her dignity. Beyond these, there are also some beasts, who is talented in sweet talking and flirtatious towards her. When she is too naïve and fall for the trap, it happens to be a one night stand. Once a woman marriage is fixed, she gets married and goes off to her in laws. Her life changes in the moment the knots tied by the man. In todays millennia, womens are still carrying the burden of the responsibility of her maternal side, together with her new in-laws. Every morning she wakes up, she serves the husband, deal the day with by preparing him for his day, every day. As well taking care of her new in-laws all of her life. Then, comes the pregnancy moment, again, she carries her child her womb, making sure he is safe in there, and taking care of her world on the outside. She loses all her beauty, her happiness, her wishes, her ambitions, and it is all sacrificed for the sake of her marriage. And then the cycle never stops. She raises her children, become beautiful, and then one day they too get married. But as mother, she never stopped caring and provide them all the love, the needs, etc. It never stops. There are some man and in laws who support their daughter in law and I have a big salute to them. They are an example for today’s woman millennia, don’t stop her for what she is capable of, and don’t clip her wings..
Dr.Thieren Jie
pregnancy and parenthood are not projects. They are, instead, as I keep saying, about bringing into the world a person with whom you are going to have a lifelong liking and loving relationship.
Philippa Perry (The Book You Wish Your Parents Had Read: (And Your Children Will Be Glad That You Did))
Maternal death during childbirth is not unique to humans, although it has long been accepted that humans have a somewhat unique situation of having to fit a large-headed infant through a narrow pelvis. This biological constraint, along with socio-economic and political issues, makes childbirth (except in the case of surrogacy) a potentially dangerous event that women must face if they wish to be evolutionarily successful.
Kimberly A. Plomp (Palaeopathology and Evolutionary Medicine: An Integrated Approach)
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At least there are two of us now. We can gang up on them.” Raven laughed softly. “It’s such a fight all the time, maintaining any kind of control in my life with Mikhail. I have this feeling he’s only going to get worse with this pregnancy.” “And you’re obviously going to have the healer on your back,” Shea pointed out. “He’s more daunting than Jacques’ brother.” Raven sighed. “I wish I could say that wasn’t true, but he’s going to be horrible, really horrible.
Christine Feehan (Dark Desire (Dark, #2))
Sometimes they try to protect us from the harsher aspects of their lives.” Shea whirled around to face her, eyebrows up. “Their lives? Aren’t we bound to them? Haven’t they done something to irrevocably bind us to them so that there is no way to leave them? It isn’t just their lives. They brought us into this, and they have no right to arbitrarily decide what we can and can’t know.” Raven swept a hand through her blue-black hair. “I felt the same way for a long time.” She sighed. “The truth is, I still feel the same way. But we persist in judging them by our human standards. They are a different species of people altogether. They are predators and have a completely different view of right and wrong.” Raven shoved a hand through her hair, frowning as she did so. “I wanted to wait to have a baby. But Mikhail has been noticing differences in Gregori, and we both knew he needed some hope to continue. It worries me, though, because I still have such a hard time fitting into their world.” Shea crossed the room and sat on the bed beside Raven’s chair. She could hear the fear in the woman’s voice, and something in her instantly responded. “At least there are two of us now. We can gang up on them.” Raven laughed softly. “It’s such a fight all the time, maintaining any kind of control in my life with Mikhail. I have this feeling he’s only going to get worse with this pregnancy.” “And you’re obviously going to have the healer on your back,” Shea pointed out. “He’s more daunting than Jacques’ brother.” Raven sighed. “I wish I could say that wasn’t true, but he’s going to be horrible, really horrible.
Christine Feehan (Dark Desire (Dark, #2))
I wanted to wait to have a baby. But Mikhail has been noticing differences in Gregori, and we both knew he needed some hope to continue. It worries me, though, because I still have such a hard time fitting into their world.” Shea crossed the room and sat on the bed beside Raven’s chair. She could hear the fear in the woman’s voice, and something in her instantly responded. “At least there are two of us now. We can gang up on them.” Raven laughed softly. “It’s such a fight all the time, maintaining any kind of control in my life with Mikhail. I have this feeling he’s only going to get worse with this pregnancy.” “And you’re obviously going to have the healer on your back,” Shea pointed out. “He’s more daunting than Jacques’ brother.” Raven sighed. “I wish I could say that wasn’t true, but he’s going to be horrible, really horrible.
Christine Feehan (Dark Desire (Dark, #2))
Although the reveal goes against Penny’s wishes not to have kids, the writers chose to have her get pregnant as a way to pay off the line from the pilot where Leonard, in a moment of wishful—and maybe delusional—thinking, says to Sheldon, “Our babies will be smart and beautiful.” But many viewers and critics had a problem with Penny’s surprise pregnancy, including Vulture’s Kathryn VanArendonk who wrote at the time (May 17, 2019), “There are several reasons why this makes me want to rip my hair out… This was always Leonard’s vision, but never Penny’s,” and “In an otherwise heartwarming finale… it’s infuriating and unfortunate that The Big Bang Theory would essentially erase a woman’s right to choose from her own narrative.
Jessica Radloff (The Big Bang Theory: The Definitive, Inside Story of the Epic Hit Series)
Trust me, he won’t want to know. We both made it quite clear that we didn’t want anything serious. I mean, think about it. He doesn’t ever date; he just hooks up. This is the last thing he wants. This is an anchor weighing down his fun-loving ship.” “Well, too bad for him,” Blakely says with such strong conviction that I wish I could have her kind of sass at this moment. “I’m so sick of women—for the most part—taking on the brunt of the pregnancy. Sure, some great men out there are truly there for their partners, but in situations like this, it’s more often than not that the woman deals with all the struggles when it should be both parents.” She points her finger at me. “He doesn’t just deserve to know. He needs to know. This is his responsibility too.
Meghan Quinn (Those Three Little Words (The Vancouver Agitators, #2))
And then you had Penny tell Leonard she really didn’t want kids. I actually wished that they did not, because I loved that message so much. It was cute how the writers did it at the end with Penny’s surprise pregnancy, and all in all I’m glad, but I was actually voting for her not to. I loved that she was like, “No, I don’t really want them.
Jessica Radloff (The Big Bang Theory: The Definitive, Inside Story of the Epic Hit Series)
Hefner never once campaigned for anything that didn’t bring him direct benefit, and, when fear of pregnancy was one of the last remaining reasons for women saying ‘no’, he had every reason to wish for a change that would widen the pool of women available to him.
Louise Perry (The Case Against the Sexual Revolution: A New Guide to Sex in the 21st Century)
Masculine women who wish to be dominant experience higher rates of STI’s, unplanned pregnancy, and depression.
Jessica Marie Baumgartner (Reclaiming Femininity: Saving Women's Traditions & Our Future)
When she hears the news that God has chosen her to play a physically and emotionally dangerous role in history, Mary reacts not with confusion or reluctance, but with swift acceptance. To any of her contemporaries who heard about this for the first time, the young woman's acceptance would have seemed surprising, almost shocking. For an unmarried woman in first-century Galilee, a pregnancy of any kind would be frightening news, even if the child were wished-for and the identity of the child's father was not in doubt.
Kate Cooper (Band of Angels: The Forgotten World of Early Christian Women)
Lying by Johannes in the darkness, envying him the unquestioned habit of sleep, the way he could remove himself, I wished that I might pause, take stock; that is a thought that comes back to me now: that I would like to pause pregnancy like a film, to walk away, do something else, returning later when I have had time to rest or think. I had always, before my pregnancy, regarded my body as a kind of tool, a necessary mechanism, largely self-sustaining, which, unless malfunctioning, did what I instructed of it, and so to have my agency so abruptly curtailed, revealed as little more than conceit, felt like betrayal. I no longer listened to my own command. Inside me, while I wished that I might be able to be elsewhere, that I might leave my body in the frowsty sheets and go downstairs to sit in the dark kitchen, unswollen and cool, cells split to cells, thoughtless and ascending, forming heart and lungs, eyes, ears- a hand grew nails- this child already going about its business, its still uncomprehending mind unreachable, apart.
Jessie Greengrass (Sight)
When I first found out about Cerian’s deformity and made the choice to carry her to term, it felt like the destruction of my plans and hopes. It went against what I wanted. It limited me. But it was in this place of limitation that God showed me more of his love. Up until this point, the clamor of my desires and wishes had made me like a closed system centered in on myself, on my needs, flaws, and attributes. My life, even at times my religion, had revolved around achievement, reputation, and winning respect and approval from others.
Sarah C. Williams