If I had a baby each time somebody felt the need to comment on my pregnancy, I would have produced enough offspring to double the entire population of the United States. The comments began when I first disclosed my pregnancy, then simmered down while I was in the hospital and people had restricted access to my baby bump. Now, that I am completely off parole, the comments are so out of control I sometimes feel the urge to re-admit myself to the hospital and seek refuge in a dark utility closet until Baby J shows his little face.
At the dentist's office this morning, the questioning commenced when the receptionist asked if I had my baby yet. I had to do a double take of my protruding bump before seriously answering her, just in case Baby J accidentally fell out in the parking lot. Not sure how to respond, I pointed down to my stomach and answered: "nope, he's still in there...." When the hygienist called me in, her eyes practically bulged out of their sockets as she too was overcome with an intense need to comment: "Wow--you look like you are about to pop any second!" For the duration of the cleaning, I was praying that my water didn't break all over her sterile station, contaminating the numerous dental devices.
Last week, while I was waiting in the doctor's office for my sonogram, a nosey soon-to-be grand-mother began an endless tirade of questions regarding my pregnancy. As I tried to answer her questions in a rather subdued and conservative manner, she simply could not restrain herself from asking: "Do you know that your whole life is about to drastically change?" Dumbfounded, I could do nothing but look at her, without acknowledging her response in a less-than respectful manner. Instead, I caustically thought: Really lady? Thank you so much for alerting me to this unprecedented news flash. Before you unveiled this secret, I had absolutely no idea whatsoever that I am about to be thrown into a completely foreign world, in which I will I have to be available around the clock to care for an infant...
The other day, while I was getting my haircut, the stylist informed me that I looked really pregnant. After I confirmed that I was indeed over nine months pregnant, she continued to quizzically look at me as though I should be locked away in a sort of pregnant convent. I had no prior knowledge that at nine months, my hair cut privileges would be revoked due to displaying anything other than a miniscule baby bump. I thought, if I don't look really pregnant now, at what point would my body suddenly metastasize itself into this spectacle? Also, when I was first pregnant, nobody ever told me that I looked a little pregnant and luckily they knew better than to tell me I looked a little fat....
When I was about four month's pregnant, one of my colleagues told me that I had "pregnant face". Caught somewhere between wanting to correct her grammar of neglecting to use the preposition "a" and taking offense, I was rendered speechless. As implied, "pregnant face" was simply a symptom of the pregnancy virus. Another colleague asked me if I was sure there was only one baby in there, as my bulging stomach dared to explode out of my dress. For a few weeks, I remained in a state of mortification that I had put on so much weight so quickly and wondered if maybe the ultrasound technician had overlooked another baby....
Really people?? Is it that difficult to think of a somewhat flattering remark to say to a pregnant woman? Just in case, I have compiled a list of politically correct, acceptable comments (I have to express my gratitude to friends and family for providing me with some of these positive remarks):
1. You are carrying so well (as opposed to you look like the Goodyear blimp)
2. Your hair looks so shiny or your skin is glowing!
3. You hardly look like you've gained any weight
4. You have the cutest little belly (thank you, nurse Sharon!)
5. Omigod, you are hardly showing!
6. You look like you are seven months pregnant, not nine (much credit to my mom, who is usually brutally honest).