Commence Pouting

Okay, confession: throughout this growing-a-human-baby-in-my-stomach-thing, I’ve tried really, really hard to not be “one of those women.”

You know the ones I’m talking about! The ones who can’t shut-up about being pregnant. It’s like, “Yes, we know that’s what your life revolves around right now but you are my friend and I want to hear about your life outside of growing a human!”

Whether I’ve prevailed or fallen completely on my face in this endeavor is up to you to decide.

 

That’s beside the point, basically, I’m just trying to say that I don’t want to flood your blog newsfeed with whiny, rambly stories of how beautiful and horrible being pregnant is. That’s not why you’re here and that’s not why I’m here.

But today, can I have a little grace? Is it okay for me to whine a little bit or will you think I’m being terribly bitchy?

 

So, when I went in at 18 weeks to get THE ultrasound, the one where you find out the gender and get to start picking out names and nursery stuff; the ultrasound tech, in response to a comment I had made about not having a bump said, “You have a very long torso, you’re not going to look as pregnant as you are. So don’t let anyone bully you or make you worry, okay?”

I really appreciated her telling me this because, much to my surprise, I was met with many more raised eyebrows than I anticipated.

The bump didn’t really start to make it’s appearance well into the halfway mark of being pregnant. It was right around 20 weeks that I noticed my jeans getting tighter.

The only thing people can say to me when I tell them how far along I am is, “No you’re not!” “You’re kidding!” “I was that big at 3 months!” “There’s no way you are that far along.” “You’re not that much bigger than when I last saw you…” “Are you sure?”

Now I know what you’re thinking over there, sitting behind your screen shaking your head. Of all the things to complain about? Right?

It’s not the comment itself, I’m actually quite flattered to know I look good for being as pregnant as I am. But it’s the comment made on my body by people who–to be honest–I don’t give a damn about. Just like those women who look like they’re about to burst only two months into their pregnancy, do you think they appreciate hearing how big they are?

After half the women at a social event tell me, “There’s just no way you are actually that pregnant.” and all the raised eyebrows I’m met with, guess what? I start second guessing myself! Is my baby healthy, is my doctor lying to me, am I supposed to be bigger, am I eating enough, what if I’m slowly killing off my baby, what if he comes out maimed and deformed…………………..

There are people in my life whose opinion matters to me, those people are more than welcome to make comments and talk to me because they know me and love me and care about me. Friends and family who are genuinely interested in me and how I’m feeling and how things are going.

Those people who are just making an open commentary on the way my body is growing a baby, please step to the side and shut your mouth because no one needs that kind of negativity here!

I think there’s a way to be polite about it, “Wow! You look great.” instead of “Wow! You look like you’re starving yourself and your baby.”

 

I’m tired of people thinking I want their opinion on my body….commence pouting and eating inordinate amounts of chocolate fudge poptarts. While we’re being honest here: I’ve consumed WAY too many poptarts in a 24 hour period. Like, I’m really ashamed to tell you how many calories I’ve stuffed into my face just by buying poptarts last night.

Should I tell you?

Hhhhmmmmm…..

Nope. I can’t. It’s too embarrassing.

Byyyyyeeeeeeeee!

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