Diary of an Angry Pregnant Woman,  Thoughts

Horrible Things Strangers Say To Pregnant Women

I am so, so pregnant.

I am so, so pregnant that strangers cannot contain themselves. They comment and they touch. And I hate them all for it.

I feel like there’s a fourth grader living in my uterus, alternating practicing her karate and mastering the butterfly stroke. It doesn’t help that literally everywhere I go, someone feels entitled to remark upon my size, shape, due date, number of babies etc…

I get it—I’m huge. You MUST realize that I know this. I have been keeping a list of the things that people say to me. Most of them have been repeated. All of them are unappreciated. There are just a smattering of the horrible things strangers say to pregnant women:

“Dear Lord, maybe you should go home before you have that baby here.”

You look at me and you see a protruding belly.  But I feel it; the constant tugging of my too-thin skin stretched to the extreme. I have a pulled muscle in my left thigh that screams every time I take a step. Hence, the waddle that is usually bad enough in the third trimester has become more of a limp/shuffle/waddle/skip. It looks like I’m making up my dance moves as I go. But telling me to go home is a terrible solution—I didn’t choose to enter the madness of Costco a week before Christmas, but I got shit to do. Diapers aren’t going to buy themselves. Plus, I have stock up my wine fridge for the day I can drink again. This is important stuff.

“Are they all yours?”

You may notice the two small children that orbit me like the moons of Saturn. Only my moons are constantly being hit by asteroids, causing them to veer off course and into the universe. Yes, they are “all” mine. And crazy enough, my husband and I actually CHOSE to have three of them. So when you see me yelling, “Get back over here right now! Stop picking your nose! Hold onto this cart before I put you in it!” just know that those all those exclamations translate into “Mommy loves each of you so much!”

“You are so brave.”

Thank you? I get this one a lot. I’m never sure what they’re referring to. Am I brave for bringing two kids out in public? Is it because I’m having a third? Or is brave just something you call people now days? Or do they sense that I am super duper brave? Because I am.

“You know how this happens, right?”
(makes sweeping gesture over my children and my belly)

An elderly woman asked me this in line at the grocery store this week. I have never, ever, so badly wanted to call someone a cunt as badly as I did in that moment. I wanted to scream it in her old, wrinkly face. Because that’s fucking rude. And also because I am 68 months pregnant and I can. But instead I smiled and said, “Yes, my husband and I finally figured it out.”

“Well you’re obviously having twins!”

Uh, no. It’s not obvious. And there’s just the one. I really do understand that I look ridiculous, but I can assure you that according to multiple sonograms and doctors’ visits on the weekly, that there is only one baby in there. I am five-foot-two…there’s just only so much room for the baby to grow before it has to grow straight out. It’s science.

“Wow! How far past due are you?”

Awkward silence as I mull over the creative expletives I have on reserve for situations like this.

 “Are you smuggling melons under there?”

This is always asked by old men. Always. And than they laugh hysterically and point. I’ve had some time to think about appropriate responses, but they all include referencing the aforementioned’s old, wrinkly balls.

The worst, though, was when I made the mistake of attending a “Viking Festival” at eight months pregnant. The jokes never stopped. And the worst part, by far, was getting made fun of by men in tights and women dressed as out-dated prostitutes, using the language of old.

“Tis that a melon you be stealing young lady?!” Men and their goddamn fruit references.

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One Comment

  • Sally Henry

    Times have definitely changed. When I was P.G 46 years ago people treated me like a fragile flower, complementing me on my beauty and letting me go ahead in long lines. Happy end of pregnancy days Diary of a Mommy. Babies are always worth it. Sally