Being Pregnant is Awkward

I remember when I was little and I realized that in order to have children, you had to give birth to babies. (There were other steps in that process what were equally disturbing, but I won't go into that) I was really afraid of that. Whenever I would go visit my mom at the hospital after one of her many deliveries, I would see that she seemed happy and everything, but kind of glossy-eyed and dead tired.

Newborns, too, were scary. They are so little and wrinkly and pink and they make unnatural sounds and whenever someone handed me one, I would always assume I was undergoing some kind of safety test and I was failing.

It's only getting weirder.

The thing about pregnancy that I am learning is that it is a bond that ties women together. That sounds great, except for the fact that women typically bond through sharing. Sharing stories. About having babies. Every story I hear makes me feel that much more like wearing some kind of baby-concealing power belt and pretending I’m not one of them. Because technically, I’m not yet. I’m just a girl growing a baby.

The other thing is that people feel like somehow my stomach is no longer part of the socially unacceptable places on my body to touch. I will admit here that most forms of physical contact from most people are not something I welcome, so I might perhaps be a bit more sensitive to these kind of maternal bonding moments than your average mother of…any, but still.

So far, I deal with these situations like this:

Person: *leans forward to touch my stomach* “Oh, how far along are you?”
Me: *steps back and rubs my own stomach* “heh heh heh….25 weeks.”

I think in my mind, maybe the person will see that there is no need to touch my stomach, since I’m already doing it. The creepy laugh is just something that happens when I rub my own stomach.

The third awkward thing, which is related to the first awkward thing, is the fact that women who are in their final stages of pregnancy have this tendency to, at times, share more information than I want or am capable of understanding about their current physical state.

I understand that these women are miserable, uncomfortable, excited to have a baby and whatnot. But I don’t know what it means when they start telling me random statistics about their body, like how many centimeters they “are” and other indications that labor is imminent.

Confused and afraid, inevitably, I head to WebMD where I start at my current week and click through weeks for about an hour until I get to the labor and delivery part, just to ease the shock a little.

The fourth awkward thing is my body. Have you ever read the “Frog and Toad” books? They were some of my mom’s favorites. All growing up, I thought that my little sister, Mikelle was like Frog, always positive and supportive, and I was like Toad, begrudgingly doing the right thing, learning the hard way. Well, finally, I can say that there is one way in which I am more like Frog.

Physically.

Frog is the creature on the front seat, with the skinny legs and the round middle. I look at my disappearing waistline balancing on two thin little legs, and I can just hear Frog’s voice (as read by my mom) saying “You’re right, Toad! You do look funny in your bathing suit!” I'm sure I would too, if the timing of my pregnancy hadn't precluded that option.

If you actually read this whole post, I feel like you should be rewarded, so here is pretty much the only picture I have taken of my pregnant self thus far. I know it's lame to take a picture of yourself in a bathroom with a cell phone, but hey. The bump is there.

And, to be fair, my pregnancy has been great. I don't throw up (anymore), I don't get cravings to eat dirt, and I have yet to delve into the wonderful world of maternity clothes. Oh, and I get to feel Ebi/Ivy swimming around all day long. I think that probably makes up for the awkwardnesses of pregnancy.