Preggo Rant

I love being pregnant. I really, truly do. I love that God has deemed me worthy of becoming a mother and has given me the opportunity to have this baby. I love that my body is going through changes that only other mothers know and understand. I feel like every mom in the world is a member of this exclusive society, and the initiation is pregnancy and childbirth. I can’t wait to complete my initiation and become a lifetime member.

I am in my second half of pregnancy. My belly has rounded out, going from the “has she gained weight?” phase to the “she’s having a baby!” phase. Random people are stopping me and asking me when I’m due. It’s nice. And it’s also hilarious to watch people want to retract their questions as soon as they ask, fearing that I’m not really pregnant and just a little too round in the tummy area. Don’t get me wrong - I don’t feel at all like I’m “due” any special awards or recognition for being pregnant (although the “expectant mothers” parking spaces at some stores are WONDERFUL and should be placed at ALL grocery stores and Targets). But the “Oh my god – congratulations!” and “He’s going to be so beautiful!” comments have really become sunshine points of my days. They are nice buffers between the daily bouts of heartburn, gas, back aches, and swollen feet and toes.

HOWEVER

I am realizing that with the “Congratulations” comments comes the “Let me tell you” conversations. Why, oh why, oh WHY do people feel that they have the right to tell me how to “be” pregnant? Even more so, why do people feel they have the right to tell me how to raise my unborn child? Every. Single. Day. Some self-appointed “parenting guru” feels it necessary to tell me what I should be doing, how I should be doing it, or what to expect in the next few months/during childbirth/for the extent of my child-rearing years. What gets me are the different types of people that I get it from, particularly men and other parents:
Men – First let me say that seeing a man holding a baby, carrying a child on his shoulders, even just holding their child’s hand – anything to do with a man being affectionate with a child (in a non-Dateline “To Catch a Predator”-type of way) absolutely melts my heart. I think dads can be a little overlooked during the pregnancy phase, which is unfortunate as they are usually the target of the many mood swings and the retriever of late-night food cravings. However, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, a man has absolutely no right to tell a woman how she should be feeling during pregnancy. Except maybe the “pregnant man” that used to be a woman who got pregnant (I can’t believe I actually just typed that… only in today’s world). Until you have carried a human being in your body, please do not tell me how or what to feel. If you know some amazing remedy to my current ailments, by all means please tell me. If you have man’s-perspective advice on what I can do or say for/to my hubby as an extreme token of appreciation, by all means please tell me. But, once again, do not tell me how or what I should be feeling physically. *My hubby gets a free pass on this for many reasons. #1 – he was there when baby Luke was created. #2 – he puts up with my many pregnant personalities, often changing without notice. #3 – he reads about pregnancy ailments and milestones and then tells me when they’re probably coming soon (i.e. “Those jalapenos are probably going to start giving you heartburn soon.” Or “You’ve been on your feet too long – they’re probably going to be pretty swollen tonight.” – Both of which he have told me) I think it is absolutely the sweetest thing that he is reading/remembering these things and trying to coach me through them in my moments of hard-headedness.
Other Mothers/Parents – There is nothing more that I can say other than you should know better. Let me throw out a little disclaimer here… I respect mothers and parents in general. I bow down to everything that you do and everything that you have been through. But please don’t lecture me on how much things are going to change when the baby comes. Really, do you think that I don’t know that already? You were given the chance to learn lessons on your own. Please please PLEASE let Kevin and I have the same experience. I’ve also had some mothers tell me “what I’m in for” for the remainder of my pregnancy and their hell-acious labor stories. If all goes according to plan, I will be pregnant for another 4 months. I know that I will get bigger. I know that I will get more and more uncomfortable. I know that certain bodily functions will get worse and new ones may appear. And sweet Lord, I KNOW that labor will be the most painful experience of my life. For my sanity and your safety, please remember what it was like when you were pregnant and others tried to tell you “what you’re in for”. Remember the ping of fury that shot through your body as soon as others tried to tell you. Remember that all you wanted to hear was “You look great. You’ll be fine. And if you need to vent, I’ve been through it and I’m here for you.” Those words are golden to a woman with child.

Let me catch myself before you start to think that I’m some angry head-case that walks around snapping at anyone who tries to speak to me. I appreciate the many mothers, fathers, and friends in my life who have been through this. And I appreciate all of the words of encouragement, support, and advice (I know, that completely contradicts this entire post) that I have received up to this point. The advice has been amazing – what creams to use on my belly for the itching and oh-so-lovely stretchmarks, ideas on nursery room colors, what medicines I can/can not take, and ways to deal with those who offer too much advice are just a few. But these bits of knowledge were received from those near and dear to me, and usually in conversations where I’m asking “What do I do??”

A lesson to those with preggo’s in your life…
Be supportive. Tell her she looks great, and really mean it. Don’t expect her to be capable of everything she was capable of before baby (spending hours walking the mall or grocery store, staying up late to hang out, etc). Expect mood swings and out-of-the-blue tears. And most importantly – when you start to think “Oh my god, I can’t TAKE her anymore! She’s become a monster!”, know that your old friend/sister/daughter/wife is in there somewhere. She’s just going through a lot and is just as confused and frustrated as you are (if not more). Do your best to love her as much as you did before hormones took over her every breathing moment.