Yesterday, when my husband left to pick up my 15-year-old stepson, who is on a four-day midwinter break from his out-of-state school, I announced to my nearly 5-year-old son that I was going upstairs to put on makeup. 

“Why?” he asked.

Well, my first answer was that, as of Thursday afternoon, I could.  Because I haven’t experienced placenta previa-related pre-term bleeding in three weeks, my doctor said that I can transition from full bed rest to partial bed rest, so I’m now allowed to stand up for a few minutes to perform basic tasks like applying makeup.

My second answer was that I looked terrible, so I wanted to put on some makeup so my stepson, who has been away for a month, who has only heard about my 4-day hospitalization and bed rest, wouldn’t be freaked out upon seeing me.

My son said, “You don’t look terrible.”

“Thanks, sweetie.   But, I’ll look better if I put on some makeup.”

This morning, my son walked into my bedroom just as I was deciding what to wear for the day.  I told him I was going to put on a tank top.

“What’s a tank top?”

I pulled a black one out of the closet, held it up and said, “This is one.  It’s basically a t-shirt without sleeves.”

“Then everyone will see your arms.” 

“I know.  But, because of the baby in my belly, I’m hot all the time, so I’m going to wear a tank top underneath my sweater, in case I need to take my sweater off.”

As I pulled the tank top over my head and pulled it down over my super-sized belly, he said, “You look pretty good in that.”

My sweet, sensitive son gave me a compliment. 

And, whether he was serious—or simply trying to make me feel better about myself—doesn’t matter.  Sometimes, in the third trimester of pregnancy, moms-to-be need little white lies.