Pregnant Women are People Too.


For whatever reason, people do really seem to think that being pregnant makes you public domain.   Public domain for talking to (thanks, Super-Market checkout man, but I don’t need your advice on breastfeeding), public domain for touching (I can’t tell you how many near-strangers have [hopefully] unknowingly fondled my vagina while trying to find my baby in there), public domain for prying and personal questioning (was it an accident?), and worst of all, public domain for making mind-bogglingly harsh comments that you would never dare say to someone who wasn’t pregnant (I’m getting to that part.)

Let’s be honest:  Gaining weight for any reason sucks.   (Yes, I’m back on that topic again.)   I know there’s a baby in here, and I already love her more than anything in this world, but that doesn’t really take the edge off the fact that my face looks like an overinflated basketball.

Keep that in mind while you read the following top five crazy-ass things that people have said to me this week:

1.  Hey Fatty.   (As far as I can tell, this is a pretty standard “I think I’m being cute, but I’m lucky you’re not murdering my face” pregnancy comment.  Still stings.)

2. Wow, so your Dad took it off, and gave it to you, huh?   (My Dad recently lost 35 lbs.   Go Dad.   Four separate people said this to me on Tuesday.)

3. You’re like a huge blob!   (I mean…)

4. How much weight HAVE you gained?  (Would you ever ask someone non-pregnant this question, Bob?)

(and my personal favorite…drumroll please…)

5. Pardon my saying it, but you look like an elephant.   (Under no circumstances will I pardon your saying that.)

Early in my pregnancy, I would hear further-along women wishing death and dismemberment on people who said such things to them, but I’d laugh it off.    I thought to myself “they aren’t really calling you fat” or “they’re just trying to be funny, I’m sure it’s affectionate.”    And while I’m giving folks the benefit of the doubt that those things are true, I must ask on behalf of all pregnant women everywhere that you non-pregnants consider your words a little more carefully when dealing with someone who has been uncomfortable for the better part of nine months and is full of raging and irrational hormones.

I’m 33 weeks pregnant.   It’s august.   It’s hot.   I’m tired (like, more tired than I’ve ever been.)    My patience is not what it used to be.   Nor is the thickness of my skin.   While some of these comments made me laugh in disbelief, others brought me to tears.   (I’m not proud of it.   I usually have a better sense of humor than that…but c’mon, cut me some slack here.)

On that note – here’s my update:

How far along? 33 weeks.
Total weight gain/loss: Yeah…like I’m giving you people any more ammo.
Stretch marks? My puberty stretchies are turning red and threatening to blow.  (Oh, joy.)
Sleep: all. the. time.
Best moment this week: We got our stroller!   Sometimes I push it around our house and imagine she’s in it.   Shhh.
Movement: So much.
Food cravings: I don’t want to put another thing in my body that will end up on my ass.
Gender: Girl.
Labor Signs: Nope.
Belly Button in or out? That’s a close up of the situation above.  (You’re welcome, world wide web.)  My cavernous belly button is still holding on.
What I miss: Focus.
What I am looking forward to: Finishing up all my work so I can sleep and nest.
Weekly Wisdom: Deep breaths.
Milestones: I can now make out body parts.   She has Scott’s butt.

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Feed Me Seymour