Don’t Mess With Me, I’m Pregnant

Before I go HAM on a $20 dollar Taco Bell smorgasbord, indulge me in my struggle to make sense of the lack of common sense people employ when talking to me about my pregnancy.

“Why aren’t you feeling okay? Is it because you’re having a baby?”

The extreme fatigue, the chronic nausea, the relentless dry heaving, the brain splintering headaches and the feeling of being simultaneously starving and on the verge of throwing up are definitely caused by my pregnancy.

The perpetual annoyance I feel when you ask me this every day is all you. Google it.

“How did you tell your husband?”

I said “I’m pregnant” after peeing on a stick at 6:00 AM. We promptly snuggled ourselves together and went back to sleep.

Why? Was I supposed to hire an Etsy calligrapher and have announcements made or should I have sent a glitter bomb to let my partner know that yes, it’s as we suspected, I’m having a baby?

“My husband has health issues too.”

This thickening of my mid-section, those bouts of odor-induced nausea and my mood swings aren’t a health issue. I’m a vessel of human life. I’m literally making another person with my body. What’s your husband’s Irritable Bowel Syndrome got to do with it?

“You can eat smoked salmon. It’s fine.”
 “No, thank you. I’ll pass.”
 “But why?”

You know what? You’re probably right. It probably won’t affect me. Load me up on salmon and soft cheeses. What’s the worst that could happen? Just a potential listeria infection that will not only harm me, but will also harm the tiny human living inside my body.

Why listen to me? I’m just a woman who’s pregnant who’s been given advice by her doctor to avoid suspiciously sourced fish and soft cheeses, especially at office potlucks where I don’t know which discount grocer you frequent or how far you go to prevent cross-contamination in your house. Hint: No one is more informed or hygienic than a pregnant woman when it comes to research and food prep.

Also, if your validation is based on me eating your smoked salmon, you’ve got a long way to go.

“So, is your husband okay with it?”

Are you asking if my husband was shocked and probably bummed out about becoming a father because we continue to live in a culture that devalues women’s decision-making abilities by implying the need to ask for permission to do anything from making a baby to buying a car? Was my husband angry with me for becoming pregnant behind his back and thusly ruining his life because everyone knows that there’s nothing like a baby to make a man want to renege on his promises and return to a simpler time where his sole responsibilities included wiping his own ass and making sure to hit the liquor store before closing time.

Or did you mean to ask whether or not we discussed at length whether or not we wanted to share our life with a little friend who looks a little bit like us and will irrevocably change how we live forever? That together we determined that yes, we loved each other and that love made us want to make a baby because we still have enough hope to believe that we can make a person that will make a difference in this world?

In case you’re having a hard time figuring that one out, it’s the latter reason. Call us crazy, but we still believe that something as silly as creating something out of love might change things.

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