This is a conversation that was had tonight between me and my step-mother-in-law:
HER: Are you sure you’re not having twins?
ME: Yeah, I’m sure.
HER: If you get any bigger you won’t be able to move around!
HER: Really! I don’t think I was that big even at the end of my pregnancies!
ME: (Silently walking away so she wouldn’t see me cry.)
This conversation really happened, in public, at a restaurant, at the end of an otherwise wonderful evening. I cried the whole 30 minute drive home. I have no idea how anyone would think it a good idea to say those things to a pregnant woman. To any woman, as my husband pointed out.
Yes, I’ve put on some weight. Sure, it’s about 10 pounds more than I should have by this point. But what the fuck? I just googled pictures of women that are 22 weeks pregnant, and some of them look a lot bigger than I do. Some of them are smaller, too. Honestly, I think I’m right about in the middle.
Until tonight I thought my burgeoning belly was cute. I’d admire it in the mirror. Now I feel fat. There’s nothing cute about fat.
Luckily I bought a treadmill last week. I can work on the weight gaining problem without freezing in the cold weather.
I’ve decided that I will not be going to her home for Christmas. I feel embarrassed, and would like to not have to see her until the baby is born and I am back at or under my pre-pregnancy weight. Obviously that probably won’t happen, but I can certainly try to keep my contact with such a negative person to a minimum. The stress that she brought me with those 3 simple sentences isn’t good for me, and is definitely bad for the baby.
Pregnancy is supposed to be a happy time. It’s going to take some work, but I’m hoping that I can get back to feeling happy and cute and everything that a first-time mom-to-be should be.