My husband thinks it’s funny to look at me and ask, “Are you sure you’re pregnant?” This usually with a goofy smile just after I’ve commented that I’ve gained in boobage/ stomach-size or something similar. I don’t know why, but I don’t think it’s funny. In fact, it usually makes me mad.
You think I’m faking this for fun?
Really, though, I’m just very, very, very bad at transitions. While showering this morning I was thinking about how similar – but different – being pregnant and being engaged are. Both are the predecessors to huge life changes, both take the better part of a year, both have big looming deadlines involving families and details and lives changing. Both require financial planning. Both promise awesome rewards in return for your sacrifices – or so people tell you.
But when you’re engaged, people ask, “Are you nervous?” When you’re pregnant, they ask, “Are you excited?” I don’t answer the excited question very well. Sometimes I go with, “I’m not really an excited kind of person, but I am anxious.” Other times, I say, “Yes!” knowing full well I’m not convincing anyone. To my closest people, I might admit that I’m really just kind of freaked out, to which they nod in understanding, having known me for a while.
When you’re engaged, everything is about the details, the event, the stuff. When you’re pregnant, everything’s about your body, the lack of sleep in your future… and, well, the stuff.
Nobody’s asking me if I’m ready to be a mother, except my husband, whom I made promise not to ask that again. Do I have a choice? Nope! Will I figure it out once I get there? Yup! Is there anything I can do now to minimize the chances of meltdowns later? Nope!
So I’m spending my time just being me and paying attention. I don’t handle internal dissonance well – that feeling that I’m doing something that doesn’t feel at peace with who I am or how I am. I don’t handle lack of control well – this doesn’t bode well, I know. But I know how to love, and when I manage to keep my head out of the way, I do it really well. I’m trying to spend more time getting my head out of the way (or at least playing nice with everything else).
This pregnancy has felt very surreal. I haven’t had a big emotional Mommy Moment – not when we say the heartbeat on the ultrasound, not when we saw the actual kid on the next ultrasound, not when the little dude started kicking the heck out of me. I’ve gotten used to it like I’ve gotten used to heartburn and nausea and indigestion, as a byproduct of this alien life form that is Pregnant Me. I wonder if I’ll be one of those women for whom it doesn’t feel real until she’s handed a baby… or later.
I walked past the mirror today and did a double-take. Wow, I really look pregnant. Not tubby or chubby or round, but pregnant. I had to laugh at myself for thinking, “I guess I’m sure I’m pregnant.”