(This one is for Trina too.)
After two weekends of lots of different social plans that meant socializing in lots of different groups of people, I have now been the recipient of every stupid comment that a person is not supposed to make to a pregnant woman.
At a baby shower two weekends ago, a woman asked me if I wasn’t sure I was having twins. I responded:
Um, I have seen the scan (ultrasound). Soooo not unless one baby ate the other.
She was also shocked that I still had three months to go. Then this past weekend the same thing. People actually laughed out loud when I told them my number of weeks. As if I had either caught them way off guard, or was telling a hilarious joke. And it has even happened at work. From some of the nicest people.
First, I decided I would lie about my due date. Just tell people it’s in two weeks. And then it would be really funny when I kept going for months after. They would all start to get worried and panicky that I was setting some world record for gestation periods. Then I decided to just use humor. But my twin eating another twin joke can only go so far. Finally, I sort of waved the white flag and now I just murmur some kind of acquiesced “Yep…big…mmm.”
I am 27 weeks and luckily one of my many bad habits is an inexplicable amount of self-confidence. But I am not sure this excuses the comments. It’s not that they make me feel physiologically deformed (but apparently I am to all the unlicensed armchair amateur ob/gyns walking around), it’s that they make me sad that lots of people I like would be so cliché, not clever and lame-o. And there is nothing I hate more than realizing people I love are lame. This is why I avoid Facebook. But I will get off that soapbox.
In case you want to know what all the fuss is about, Bryan was forced to lift our tacitly understood ban on taking belly shots this time around. Look away if you must. Apparently I am gargantuan.