convos with a prego lady

Truth: pregnancy has made me rather cynical. I try to keep it hidden most of the time (and usually David is the one who bears the brunt of my pent-up sass. He is a champion). I'm not sure why cynicism is a current symptom I am experiencing. It may be due to the fact that I recently read a quote that opened my eyes to all of the nonsensical things people say to fill up space. Here it is, for your own personal enjoyment:

"Yesterday at church, a lady took me aside with the express purpose to tell me, 'Don't feel bad. When God closes a door, he opens a window.'"

Melissa choked on some pita bread.

"I kid you not. What the heck does that mean anyway? That I'm supposed to climb out a window now? Or is the window just to air out the house, which is stinking to high heaven, given the fact that the door has been shut indefinitely and NO ONE CAN GET OUT?!" 

—Shannon Hale, The Actor and the Housewife (2009). 

After laughing out loud, I started to think of all of the things I've heard recently that just don't make sense. Or that drive me nuts (because they don't make sense. Or because they make assumptions that makes my hair curl (or straighten—it can't decide what it wants to be these days)). Maybe I'm hyper-sensitive (likely true. Curse you, hormones). Or maybe I'm just under a lot of positive stress (babies and bar exams and new jobs are all good things. But they are all stressful things, too). Or maybe I'm just nuts. But in any event, I hope you'll laugh with me.

Me: "Oh hey. Long time no see. Yes, I am fatter than when we last talked. Didn't you know? I'm pregnant. Due in the middle of November."

Some conversations go like that. Others go like this:

Q: "How are you? Have you been sick?"

Me: "No, I threw up once due to motion sickness. The other time was because I gagged on my own snot (it's a long story). But no, I haven't had any morning sickness. 

Q: "That's so unfair! You should have lots of children!" 

Me: Speechless. [Wait, you're telling me that "because a woman has super easy pregnancies, she should have lots of children"? That doesn't make any sense! What if a teenage girl who got pregnant out of wedlock had a super easy pregnancy? Would you tell her to have a boatload of children because she didn't have any morning sickness? Or what about a mother who already has a colony of children, doesn't get sick in her pregnancies, and is pregnant again? Would you say the same thing to her? Or congratulate her on populating the earth sans morning sickness? I'm guessing not. But based on your statement, I'm pretty sure the same logic should apply.]

Or this:

Q: "Was it an accident?" 

Me: "No, it wasn't an accident. But next time we have a family planning session you're welcome to come. Tickets are $5.00." [Why do people ask this question? Why? Is it any of your business? No! End of story. But if you really want to know (since I know you do), David and I felt very strongly that we should start trying to conceive despite all of the crazy life changes that are happening this year. So we did the deed. And when we got a positive pregnancy test as soon as we did, we were super grateful (shocked, but grateful) because both of us had previously been told by multiple doctors that we would likely struggle with infertility. Who knows what will happen with subsequent pregnancies? What we do know is that with our health histories, this pregnancy is a miracle. And we are holding onto that.]

And inevitably this comes up:

Q: "So, what are you going to do about your job?" 

Me: "So what's David going to do about his job? We're both affected by this growing creature, you know." [The assumption that I am the only one that is going to have to sacrifice and give up things is driving me nuts. David and I are a team, and we are both going to have to sacrifice to make this work. Otherwise I will end up in a straightjacket.]

So does this:

Q: "Are you going to breastfeed? Potty train at the age of 2? Have your baby watch Baby Einstein?" 

Me: "Sure?" [I haven't even met this child. I've only heard its heart beat (and it sounds like a stethoscope was held up to a hummingbird's wings). And because I have no idea what babies are like or what this baby is like, I honestly don't know exactly how we will keep it alive or raise it. We're taking it one day at a time.]

That is probably enough sass for one day. Subsequent posts are coming, I'm sure. Although it hasn't happened to me yet, I am anticipating a post on strangers who comment on pregnant women's bodies. Just know that the person who comes up to me at the grocery store and touches my burgeoning belly will receive no mercy. I have ninja like reflexes. And I'm not afraid to use them.

In all honesty, however, I think my pent-up sass is the result of the many little freak out moments I have on a day-to-day basis. Yes, this pregnancy has been relatively easy from a health standpoint. But it is also one of the scariest things I have ever undertaken. The fear, of course, comes in part from the unknown. But I think it also comes from the fact that pregnancy is so often portrayed as a rosy, cheerful time in which women glow (what does that even mean, anyways? If it's referring to the extra sheen my oily glands are giving me, then I think I understand). And I have yet to bask in that aura of pregnant bliss.

I read an interesting article in the New York Times about depression and pregnancy. While I don't think I currently have depression and anxiety, I thought this article was eyeopening on how stressful pregnancy is. This quote in particular resonated with me:

We still have retrograde ideas about how pregnant women should feel, and we need to revise them—not only for depressed women but for all women. Pregnancy is portrayed and talked about almost exclusively as a time of rapture and fulfillment. But it involves a major shift in identity, a whole new conception of self that can lead to depression and anxiety. Change—even positive change—is stressful, and in this way pregnancy can constitute a kind of elective trauma. An abrupt transition into selflessness is not immediately appealing to everyone. Pregnant women long given to self-doubt may question their ability to take care of the child. A society that glorifies motherhood while resisting basic accommodations like guaranteed extended maternity leave makes the identity shift more frightening and abrupt than it needs to be. People given to anxiety now have a harrowing array of new anxieties to grapple with. As one woman I interviewed observed, “The things that make motherhood joyful also make it terrifying.” We should strive for a more pluralistic idea of pregnancy—for one that accommodates a wide range of moods and attitudes.

I hope I don't seem ungrateful by saying that pregnancy is emotionally difficult and that the future scares me. I feel guilty for complaining, especially where I have friends who have had harder and more challenging pregnancies than I have experienced thus far. Maybe I should just put on a brave face and pretend to glow. But that doesn't feel real. As excited as I am for this baby to come, I can't help but admit that I am scared. While I welcome this change in my identity, at the same time, I am worried about the transition. It doesn't help that I am guaranteed little (if any) maternity leave to adjust into my new skin. I know my limitations—that I am very selfish with my time and sleep—and knowing that I am going to have to stretch and grow and become something more than I think I can be is overwhelming.

David keeps reminding me that God is sending this child to us at this particular time for a reason, and that he will help us make everything work out. Most days I can hold onto that promise—it's my security blanket, and it gives me comfort. But other times I forget and start to panic. It's an emotional rollercoaster that involves lots of prayer (and lots of chocolate chips).

It also doesn't help that I feel like there are so many expectations and assumptions as to how I should handle things or act. I think that's where the sass comes in—it's my coping mechanism behind closed doors (although this post is a rather public display of my sass—I suppose you could say I opened a window and am now airing out my concerns).

Long story short, I'm still getting used to this pregnancy and motherhood thing. And I think it's okay for me to admit that I'm scared (and even if it's not okay, I've admitted it. Plus, I think more people should be comfortable sharing their feelings and concerns. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only pregnant person to feel this way. And if I am, so be it. I don't mind being the president and sole member of the "Sassy and Pregnant" club). One of these days, I'll figure out how to properly deal with all of these prego emotions and conversations. Until then, forgive my sass. For now, it's my version of a glow.