Autumn at the Zoo, or, Why I Love Amish Women

The girlies and I headed off to the zoo this morning to take advantage of what could only be described as "crisp" weather. Everybody had shoes AND socks on, so you know that there was a pinch in the air. Everybody got a ride in the triple, and for the most part we wandered unencumbered by stares, "Oh, boy, you've got your hands full" and "Have you got triplets?" When we were getting ready to leave, we encountered two Amish women who were accompanying six little girls. They were all dressed in "the" dress in robin's egg blue, with black stockings, navy blue cardigans and white caps. I'm never sure if the Amish will say hello or not--my experience with them has gone both ways, but I always greet them regardless. One of the women stopped.

"Have you found that the Soothie pacifiers are too firm for your daughter's mouth?" She asked. She was pointing to Emma's pink bink, which dangled precariously from her lips. She has a new baby girl and the child is having a hard time with the Soothies designed for older babies. I told her about where to find purple Soothies, which are very flexible and good for newborns. She pointed to her three daughters, who I realized were identical triplets. "I wish we would have had a side-to-side stroller. We had the front-to-back stroller and it was almost impossible to maneuver." My first thought was, Oh My Lord, after triplets she had more children. We chatted a bit more and I wished them a nice afternoon.

As I got to the parking lot I realized that woman accepts her family size for what it is, and she isn't thinking a thing more about it. Not because Amish women are not introspective enough to contemplate motherhood, but because their culture truly welcomes children. Their social infrastructure ensures that no one has to mother alone. This woman wasn't surprised to see another woman with kids who are spaced so closely together because half of her friends and neighbors probably have kids who are 15, 16 months apart. She didn't ask, "Are you working?" or "How do you go anywhere with all of them?" because she already knows the answer to both. She's been there, and still is. I felt, talking to her, that neither one of us had to defend our family size, which is an experience I have had talking to women from other backgrounds. Of course she had children after the triplets. Of course she piled most of them into the zoo for a day. Of course she cut right to the chase with me and asked about Emma's bink. Why act shocked or surprised at a situation which, for her, is as common and plain as the dress on her back?