How to Give a Pregnant Lady a Complex
On Saturday morning the Young Girl at my table asked me if my baby had come out yet. I leaned back, patted my belly and said, “you tell me.” She concluded I had not yet had my baby.
Teenage Girl said, “you’re pregnant?”
“Did you think this was all doughnuts?” I asked, surprised, as I’ve worked with this particular girl a lot over the past couple of months.
Teenage Boy laughed. I’m not sure if he laughed because he couldn’t believe TG hadn’t noticed my burgeoning belly, or because he, too, hadn’t noticed, but couldn’t believe she admitted to not noticing.
To be fair, I do spend most of my time sitting at the table.
(I’ll say this right now: don’t chalk up my feelings to pregnancy. I get like this periodically, regardless of gestation and I feel that making a blanket statement to attribute it to pregnancy is invalidating and patronizing.)
Lately family members have been making statements that seem to doubt my abilities as a wife and mother. It’s easy to pass off when the incidents are isolated, but when the frequency of events is so tight I become more convinced that there is truly an underlying problem.
I know I’m not a perfect person, but I know I’m trying. I’d like them to know that I put a lot of effort into meal planning and preparation, that meals are ready at a consistent time even on nights that I work, and that I prepare healthy, varied, balanced meals, taking into consideration sugars, carbs, cholesterol, and sodium, in addition to the food guide. I’d like them to know that we rarely eat out. But I’d like even more for them to just trust us to be adults and stop telling us how they think we need to live. I don’t want to hear about how we need to rearrange our living room to accomodate this or that. And I don’t want to hear “uhh, you’re going to have a fun time when the baby comes!” as a dubious comment to my ability to balance the needs of both children.
Part of me wants to be mad, insulted, offended. The rest of me wants to be depressed because there is so much I want to do, like keep a clean house, that I just can’t physically maintain right now. I want to be so much more than I am.
The worst part is, while I know this too shall pass, I worry about the damage in the meantime. With families there never seems to be a statute of limitations and the previous hurts from the previous experiences are creeping in, reminding me of all the other words that have hurt. I push them away because I don’t want to be like that, but I can already feel my self-doubt spreading to every aspect of my life.
What Makes a Healthy Kid Housebound
Typically at this point in the season we have already received an average of about 11 inches of rain. This year we’ve barely hit the 2 inch mark. Yesterday we broke all sorts of heat records and Fullerton even topped the national charts with the highest recorded temperature in the country (97 degrees!) It’s still the beginning of March and we already have our first forest fire and have lost two homes.
What does all of this mean? Low humidity + high temperatures = croup. The humidifier and my husband’s concern is on high and Little Red and I have another day of television ahead of us. I think when I call it to work I’ll save myself some time and just cancel for the whole week. That’ll be one less thing to worry about this week.