As my own pregnancy is coming to an end and little man cub is due any day now, I cant help but feel relieved that I wont have to stop myself round-housing people in the face. (Yes. I can still roundhouse at 9 months pregnant.)
Everyone is excited about a new baby on the way – friends, family, neighbours and of course random people who feel the need to shoe horn their way into your personal life and make comments on your ‘situation’.
After the initial fun of telling people who asked when I was due that I wasn’t pregnant (when I was clearly 6 months pregnant) wore off, I found myself getting more and more fed up with people’s desire to comment and inadvertently and unintentionally, offend.
Here is a list of ACTUAL comments received by my pregnant friends and myself. I am sure you will agree my restraint has been outstanding…
“Congratulations. Was it planned?”
Did you plan on being a snide-y a-hole today?
“Wow, you are getting big now!”
Thanks. There is only another 20 more weeks to go – I am aiming to go the full ‘Shamu’ by the end.
“I didn’t recognise you!”
Pointing in someone’s face is rude at the best of times, let alone when the finger is being circled and looks judge-y.
“You look exhausted”
Yes, I am exhausted. I am still working full time, dealing with fuck-wits like you and growing a human.
“You don’t have much room left in those”
Thank you for drawing my attention to my dungarees. I had forgotten I was pregnant and expanding and you pointing out that my baggiest most comfortable clothing item is soon to be defunct, has really made my day.
It’s a friggin’ buffet. Of course I’m still eating and I’m not going to stop until the last sausage roll has gone.
“How are you? Tired? Oh, you wait!”
I’m fully aware that I will be soon having less sleep. but that does not mean I am not tired now. I play pillow jenga every night trying to get comfortable and pee at least 17 times before 3am.
“When I gave birth I tore front to back”
Thank you for enabling me to imagine your destroyed and mangled vagina.
“Ah, you have the pregnant waddle now, It’s your thighs rubbing together.”
No. Just, no. You cruel bastard.
“Have you thought of any names? Oh. I don’t like it.”
Oh you don’t like it? Shit. What do you like? Let me make sure YOU are happy with the name of my future child. You are THAT important to me.
“Are you sure it’s not twins?”
No, it’s not twins. But it is one giant baby that is so huge that he will have to live in my uterus forever, for I will never be able to push it out of my tiny she-bits. Thanks for noticing.
“Don’t worry, the weight will drop right off you!”
What if it doesn’t? That is a sure fire way to put a shit ton of pressure on a new mum to get back into shape. It also means that when I’m caught eating my fourth cream cake that I will feel judged. Most probably and ironically, by people much larger than me.
If you know someone who is creating a life force in their uterus, spare a thought for their feelings and just tell them they are doing a good job. Then buy them ice cream and walk away.