When I was young, my mother made sure I always followed a few key rules.
Rule #1-If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.
Rule #2-Treat others as you wish to be treated.
Rule #3-Mind your manners. Always!
Am I the only one who still lives by these simple rules? Apparently!
I am due in early August and this pregnancy definitely started out differently than my first.
With my first son, Cooper, I was pregnant two months after my wedding and over the moon. It was such an easy pregnancy and yes I did gain a lot of weight, but I felt good.
After a year of trying for our second pregnancy, my husband and I discovered that we suffered from Unexplained Secondary Infertility. We had to go the IVF route to get pregnant.
This time around, I still feel great but from day one, I felt different. Due to hormones through the IUI and IVF process, I was already 15 pounds heavier than I started with my first pregnancy. The hormones left me on an emotional roller coaster for the first 12 weeks and I felt constantly bloated and fat and I was barely pregnant!
As I checked off the weeks in my planner, the pounds were stacking on, my clothes were getting tighter and I was always self-conscious of how much bigger I was this time around.
Once I hit the 20 week mark, it seemed that people just couldn’t keep their comments to themselves.
The comments started out harmless. “Oh wow, you really popped.”
Yes, I know that in most cases, people are just trying to be engaging in conversation and show an interest but there are some people that really push my buttons. Some that every time you see them, they blurt the first thing that comes to mind. As a substitute teacher at school, I visit various schools and can go a few weeks before I venture back to certain schools. And when I do, oh boy, the comments are always there.
My least favorite is a particular teacher who just can’t seem to help herself.
“My daughter is due a month after you and you’re so much bigger than her! She’s barely showing.”
Wow, really? You just had to say that, right? My feet hurt, I am always tired and I’d really rather go home than deal with this conversation. I managed to grind my teeth together and calmly inquire. “Is this her first baby?”
She responded affirmatively.
“Well there you go.” I responded curtly as I rushed as quickly down the hallway as I could manage.
A few days later, another person commented as I left my post at the car riders line to head back inside at the end of the day.
“You’re starting to waddle. You’re too thin to waddle.”
I grind my teeth again. At this point, I worry about the fact that I won’t have any teeth left soon.
This is Florida; it’s a thousand degrees outside while inside the school, the frigid temperatures hover just above freezing. I am sweating to death working the car line, being polite and interactive with each family and really don’t need these comments right now, but I guess people can’t help themselves. I leave her with a forced laugh and waddled my way back inside to the brisk AC.
But then there are the other side of the comments: The comical words of these dear children I see on a daily basis.
How could I possibly get mad at a Pre-K student who asks if I ate the whole baby and how it fit in my mouth? Or the daily question of, “Did you pick a name yet?” What about the completely random suggestions for names from small children who don’t quite understand that naming my child after a Paw Patrol character isn’t something I am planning on doing.
The small ones who ask, “How did the baby get in there?”
I love to see the light in their eyes as I explain, “Magic!” It’s a safe way to avoid that awkward conversation with a 5-year-old that I am REALLY not up to right now. My favorite, a kindergarten girl who every day says, “Oh whoa, your belly is even bigger today.”
At these comments make me laugh. They bring me joy and I know the kids mean absolutely no harm.
Why can’t I feel that way about their adult counterpart teachers? Most of who were pregnant at some time or another and really should know better.
But today at my ultrasound appointment, when I saw that happy little baby squirming around, looking so much like his big brother, I realized it doesn’t matter what anyone says.
Bring on the comments! No matter how I look, no matter how much weight I gain, no matter the comments I suffer through, it is all worth it. The ultrasound tech assured me I look great, and she sees people every day. I am all belly and should be proud. This little boy is a whopping 3 pounds 3 ounces and at the 66th percentile for 29 weeks. So let the comments come.
I’ve been through worse. I am stronger than all of them combined because I am a mother. It’s what we do. We are tough and strong, as a true Mama Bear should be.
So please share. Tell me the worst/funniest pregnancy comment you’ve heard? I’d love to hear from you!