My sister-in-law, who is due in February, recounted the other day how her neighbor told her she was “as big as a house now.” I read those words, and it was like something straight out of the movies. That whooshing sound started up and all the memories of my own pregnancy came rushing back, along with all the incredibly moronic things people said to me.
What is it about the sight of a pregnant woman that interrupts the flow of blood to the brain and forces normal people to say ridiculous things? My sister-in-law is a petite, thin, super-healthy woman. If she had gained a lot of weight for some reason other than pregnancy, would her neighbor have told her she was as big as a house?
Being the closet nerd that I am, I initially wanted to spend several hours researching the cultural notions of pregnancy to see if some of the thoughtless things people say used to be complements in another era (like when obesity indicated your wealth and prosperity, as it still does in some impoverished countries.) Then I realized, who cares? What matters is that when you are hormonal and tired and uncomfortable that you can process these comments without letting them bother you.
Some women can naturally just let it go, and if that is you, then may I suggest you scroll on to another EHP post because you have already mastered pregnancy zen.
Others have enough empathy, even with swollen ankles, to know that most of the people who make these comments are well meaning and often do not really know what to say, so when they do speak it comes out quite awkwardly.
I didn’t fall into that category either.
So I perfected a response that helped move the conversation to more productive lines. When someone told me I was huge, I would laughingly reply, “Well, that doesn’t make me feel very good. Tell me something that makes me feel good. I need all the help I can get!” I would smile when I said it, but I would say it.
The results were often amazing. People either immediately responded with an apology and a genuinely nice comment, or they stammered around a bit as they processed the fact that their comment was actually offensive. I always tried to reassure the latter group that it wasn’t a big deal, but I was also secretly pleased that they got it. I always knew the next pregnant woman they met would not hear the same thing I just had, and that made me happy. Sometimes I had to make some extra effort to smooth things over, but it was always worth it, especially with the repeat offenders: those people you see every day who feel the need to make a comment about the pregnancy every time they see you.
And on the especially tired days, when I just did not want to deal, I would often resort to the Nod. Smile. Walk On. method of handling the comments. However, nothing ever felt as satisfying as the kind correction, if for no other reason than it made me feel like even though I could not control a lot of what was going on in my body, I could affect how it was talked about.
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I had to go back and reread this post – since I was just asked at 15 weeks if I am having TWINS. And this from another woman. Gee wiz!