Anger

I'm angry and it might be irrational...but the more I think about it the more I think it's justified.

I'm angry that anyone thinks they have a right to an opinion about my health, my choices, my body.

Since when did being pregnant mean that anyone other than myself - and the father of my child - gets a say in what I choose to do?

Since when is it anyone else's business what I choose to do or when?

Why in the name of all that is holy do acquaintences think they can ask when I'm getting induced...why can they assume that's what is happening and that it's their business...why can they have a discussion about my body without my participation, and why the fuck can they medicalize my experience? They make assumptions and assertions without the knowledge and information that only myself and my actual medical advisors have as if they are experts because they're studying medicine. Because they've been pregnant.

The arrogance is so unintentional but it is still absolute fucking arrogance.

Why shouldn't I be pissed about that?

And why am I even remotely concerned about offending them and hurting their feelings?

Paranoia

I've been avoiding sandwich meat since January. It might give me listeriosis, or whatever that terrible food poisoning is called, and it'd be bad for baby.

I've been avoiding soft serve ice cream and milkshakes for the same reason.

You know what I haven't been avoiding?

Raw cookie dough. With raw eggs.

I feel like I shouldn't have deprived myself of sandwiches this whole time.

Not a "Real Mommy"

I've been reading a lot of mom blogs and parenting articles and baby/pregnancy related things online lately. Makes sense, since that's the page of life I'm on. But yesterday I read a post on Scary Mommy that really upset me.

I usually really like Scary Mommy. I find their posts funny, informative, interesting. This one was trying to be funny, I know that. But I think the joke was a little one sided.

The author went on, at length, about how when you get pregnant you are going to get fat. That's fine. I'm definitely bigger than I was pre-pregnancy (and that makes sense, since I'm currently carrying a two pound human in my belly).

But she made one comment - and it was really just this one comment that hurt me - "if you don't get fat, all of us real moms will hate you."

I'm not fat. And here's the thing. I've never been fat. To assume that I have no body issues or have never been given grief about my size, though, is idiotic.

I've had grandmothers fret over my thin arms. I've had people ask me how much (or if) I eat. Do you want to know what it feels like to know that people think you have an eating disorder when you don't? It isn't fun. It made me second guess my body size, type, my health. And yes, I said "made" past tense because now I don't care. I know my body and I'm old enough to know that people can be accidentally insensitive, both to those who are overweight and to those who are not.

During this pregnancy I've heard more times than I can count, "Oh, you're so tiny!" Or "How far along are you?" in incredulous tones, as if I can't possibly know the real number - look how small I am. It has caused me stress - what if I'm not growing enough? Should I eat more? Is my baby okay?

My midwives are happy with my size. They have, without knowing it, reassured me so many times. When people say things, not meaning to be hurtful or dreaming that they're causing me stress - some of them even think they're complimenting me - I can say to myself, I'm the right size for me and my baby. My baby is healthy. I know this baby better than anyone and I know my body better than anyone and they can all go to hell. And I can smile and say out loud whatever socially appropriate response I've been taught to say.

And then I read an article stating that because I'm not 50 pounds over my pre-pregnancy weight, I'm not a real mommy and I get furious. So this moving little one is fake? I'm not genuinely pregnant because my body is different from yours? That makes my motherhood null and void to you?

I got angry. I cried a bit. I am (whatever that author may say) genuinely pregnant and hormonal, and both anger and tears come much more easily than they did before.

And I kinda want to find that woman and tell her to her well-intentioned face, Go fuck yourself. You and all the other "real mommies" out there. Because I'm as real a mother as anyone else and when we, even in jest, start judging each other as parents based on our fucking body size, something is really, really wrong with us.

And I don't think that's funny at all.

Insecurity

I have a friend who is very insecure about being single.

All of her friends are either married or ensconced in solid relationships. Some have children. Some don't.

She jokes about her spinsterhood. I don't know what to say so I joke along.

What I actually want to say is, you're amazing on your own. You don't need a man. Please, please, please learn how to be happy alone because you won't be happy with someone when you're so desperate to not be by yourself.

But I don't.

And I wonder which of us is actually the insecure one.

Bigger

I feel really big and unwieldy today.

Yes, I know it's just going to get worse. Yes, I know I'm just going to get bigger.

That's just how I feel today.

Counterpoint

I love hearing the racing heartbeat that is pounding in counterpoint to mine right now.  It shifted gears while we listened, starting slow and then speeding up as Baby "got excited", as the midwife put it.  I wonder if it could hear the heartbeat outside my body, or if my heart sped up when I heard the confirmation of the squirming little life inside me?

I was also glad to hear that I'm growing nicely, a good size for where this little one is at.

In related news, I really hope that nesting is a real thing, because I currently have no motivation to go and clean that spare room, or our room, and both of them really need it before Baby arrives.

TMI

Some days I dream ridiculous. What would it be like if I could do magic? Shape shift? See the future?

Other days I dream big. What I'd do with a house of my own, if I won the lottery, if I got a sudden promotion.

Other days I'd settle for being able to poop.

Expansion Program

So, I'm pregnant.

Or, as a co-worker put it, I'm on an expansion program.

I'm really enjoying being pregnant, which doesn't really surprise me so much as thrill me, because I know not everyone does enjoy it. Even when I was miserable, nauseated, exhausted - I can't say I enjoyed that but I didn't begrudge it.

Though the first day I didn't fit my pants was an unpleasant feeling.

I have been the same size for, gosh, I don't even know how many years. I've never struggled with my weight, never had to diet or work out (which actually means I'm a slender but not terribly fit person)...and even though I knew pregnancy came with a shift in size, it was still a bit of a surprise. An adjustment, both physically and mentally - and much more of a mental one.

I had a few days where I just felt fat. I wasn't really showing yet, but didn't feel comfortable in my clothes. It was disconcerting. I felt guilty about feeling fat, like I was blaming Baby when I was actually very happy to have Baby. Even being happy about it, I had to realize it was okay to feel weird about giving up my body for a while.

Now that I'm really showing though, and in maternity pants (I'm sure the comfort has something to do with it!) I'm no longer bothered by my bigger self. It still surprises me. Last night, watching a movie, I stretched and touched my stomach and looked down in surprise at the extra-ness of it. But it doesn't bother me.

I'm glad I can enjoy the journey of expansion along with my little one.

After all, isn't that what life is all about?