Grievance

Some women have really rough pregnancies. Some women have terrible morning sickness, are bed-ridden, gain an unbelievable amount of weight, struggle through every waddle and just absolutely hate being pregnant. 

This is not me. I have been very blessed to have had easy pregnancies with both of my children (to date). Being pregnant does not bother me. Aside from what I would imagine is a normal amount of baby-cookin'-related exhaustion, a reasonable round of first trimester nausea, and the other typical things one would expect from a body having to grow a-whole-dang-nother person... this has been cake. 

But I would like to air a pregnancy grievance that absolutely drives me crazy. 

It's YOU.

Look - I know you mean well and you just don't know what else to say or do. I know you're excited for me and you have no idea how annoying you're being. I know you love babies and lo and behold I am about to bring one into the world for you to enjoy. 

But please stop. 

It's not that I mind telling you when I'm due. We are all very much looking forward to that approximate date range, too. Feel free to also ask if I know the sex of the baby and if it is my first or second or seventh child. But please refrain from any facial expressions, large gestures, or further comments in reaction to whatever answer I give. 

It's not even when you ask to touch my belly that bothers me. That - oddly enough - isn't so bad. I mean, at that point you probably know me well enough to have moved past my being annoyed with you. 

It's not when you, fellow childbearing comrade, ask me questions about what's normal and what it's like for me. I know you are just looking to reassure yourself that never being able to breathe through your nose is totally fine and learn what you might expect because yes, pregnant sex can be just weird. That's totally cool and I'm so happy to oblige. Let's talk. 

But here's the thing...

Do not ask me how I'm feeling. Especially do not ask me in that sing-song tone of voice like I'm a new little puppy who is too confused about how to work my own body to walk or eat or crap without assistance. You know the voice I'm talking about... "How are you feeeeeeeellling"? 

Yeah, stop that. 

I'm not sick. 

I'm not disabled or incapacitated. 

I'm pregnant. 

And I'm fine. 

What you're asking me implies that - solely because of my 'delicate condition' - I must be experiencing some health ailments that you need to know about. 

First, I'm not. Second, you don't.

Because, in my frail state, I am so publicly available to answer your probes for personal details about how my body is handling gestation, I would like to generously offer you some alternative ways to talk to someone like me. 

Instead of: "How are you feeling?" 
Try this: "How is work?" or "What time is it?"
Why this is better: Because it's what you would ask anyone else. 

Instead of: "Are you ready?"
Try this: "Can I buy you a cheeseburger?" or "Would you like a piece of cake?"
Why this is better: Because who wouldn't?  

Instead of: "Are you dilated yet?"
Try this: Sitting in a corner by yourself. 
Why this is better: Because no discussion about how cavernous and wide my cervix is should ever take place between someone other than me, my spouse, and my doctor. And you know how she knows, right? Yeah. Unless you also have the wonderful privilege of putting the baby there or are being paid to pull it out. Don't ask. 


Here's the thing...
The only pregnancy affliction that we blessed mothers are all subjected to, is how public it is. At some point, you cannot hide your pregnancy. I would say that for the most part, we don't want to. My bump is super cute (when I can find clothes that don't make me look like a circus tent). I'm bringing sweet life into the world. This kid I'm growing is super awesome already. But why is any of that an invitation for you to overlook that I'm still a person and not an oven that needs to be checked on every five minutes. 

Oh and another thing... 

You do not need to comment on how you are waiting to meet my baby or really even ask when the baby is coming. When you start with these questions and are 'checking' up on me every chance you get, it suggests that I'm on a timer or a schedule - specifically, YOUR schedule. I guarantee you that my own anticipation outweighs yours and I really don't want to be made a spectacle in the process. In fact, this may actually be a really frustrating, scary, exciting, nerve-wracking time for me and I have no desire to be the zoo's latest Panda Watch in the process.  It may surprise you to know that I have really no control over when my child decides to make his or her debut. In the meantime, your waiting is also my waiting. And frankly, your waiting is irrelevant. If you are important to me and my husband and my child(ren) - you will be well informed when such arrival takes place. Just trust that you will be notified in a timely fashion according to where you fall in the Need-To-Know hierarchy. And please do not be offended if that hierarchy goes: me - husband - hospital - Facebook.

In conclusion, please, friends, take what I am saying with a sweet smile. Know that I love you... probably. Know that I appreciate how much you love me... naturally. And know that I recognize how much you already love my baby... definitely. Try not to forget to talk to me like an adult, preferably as one who isn't wearing this watermelon sign around her neck that says 'HEY LOOK WHAT I HAVE IN MY BELLY'!

I am either fully enjoying or barely surviving my pregnancy and trying to retain my sanity in the process. Please keep your verbal anticipation of it to yourself. 

That is all. 

Categories: #2.0, #grahamheadlines, pregnancy