The Best and Worst Part

Recently one of my friends asked me what, in my experience, has been the best and worst part of pregnancy.

Thankfully, I don't have much to complain about.  I had maybe 2 days of morning sickness (related to being overtired, I think) and later on, the occasional woe of a swollen ankle or two.  I have experienced a sore back, difficulty picking things up from the floor and/or tying my shoes, running short of breath when doing, well, pretty much anything, and some laughable memory moments when I've forgotten my wedding date and/or where my phone is (in my hand at the time); however, those are for the most part (or so I've heard) to be expected.  None have been debilitating, and considering the low severity with which I've experienced all of them, I think I've been pretty lucky.

So, back to the question--what, in my opinion, has been the best and worst part of pregnancy?  After much thought and consideration, I feel very confident in one answer for both--how people have treated me.

On one hand, there is something so wonderful about being pregnant (especially once showing) to have such widespread concern for my comfort and safety.  Strangers offer up their seats on the bus/train, hold open doors, allow me to move to the front of the grocery line, and/or offer to carry pretty much anything heavier than my handbag.  It's awesome.  Ladies in particular seem to be more friendly, and start warm conversations about babies and baths and everything in between where there would otherwise be awkward, cold silence and/or an indifferent shrug to my presence.

From people who I know, I am regularly told how beautiful or "adorably pregnant" I look, and generous offers of help and support are abundant.  From house cleaning to laundry to (obviously) moving heavy furniture . . . I am not expected to just "figure it out" or do it on my own--I know there are dozens of hands and hearts that would jump in at a moment's notice.  Even knowing that Raleigh is at my side (and very much a dependable spouse in every which way), there has been an overwhelming invitation to make sure we have what we need, and/or at least know that we have folks to count on should we feel outside assistance would be helpful.

On the other hand, there are many (strangers and loved ones alike) who treat me like I'm completely incapable of doing anything other than standing, sitting, lying down, or breathing.  I know that at least for folks who love me, their motivation isn't malicious and their insistence on me not doing something (such as running a self-powered vacuum across the carpet) is more based on the fact that they want to be sure I remain safe and healthy, however it is annoying when so many seem to take my current state as an open invitation to comment on what I should (or should not) be doing and/or give their opinion as to how I should do things differently.

I am a perfectly smart, capable, and strong woman.  I am nearly 30 years old, have read (and continue to read) much, and am receiving proper prenatal care.  I too want a healthy, happy baby at the end of this pregnancy, and want to remain as comfortable as possible during this process.  I will not do anything stupid to jeopardize that and any comment or move that indicates otherwise feels like an insult, no matter how well-intentioned.

Same goes for the objectification I often feel; because I'm pregnant, many now see me as only a baby in a belly, completely unattached and separate from the rest of my person.  Instead of seeing me as woman who happens to be pregnant, the pregnancy is all some are able to see and in many ways, I've disappeared.  They greet my belly before saying hello to me, stare incessantly at the bulge beneath my shirt (yeah--as if that's appropriate at any other time), and make references to my child in a way that I believe they wouldn't dare do if he/she were on this side of my belly button.  The warm conversations I mentioned earlier often lead to awkward questions about my breastfeeding plans or the comfort/size of my breasts.  And maybe because I'm a first time mom (and must therefore not know ANYTHING about this process), I am regularly subjected to the comments of those who want me to know their opinion--about day care, our birth plan, my weight, parenting methods, etc.  Even the color we chose for the nursery has been scrutinized.  Nothing seems to be off-limits.

And the baby talk--ugh.  Don't even get me started there.  Let's just say that it doesn't impress and I am grateful our child will primarily learn how to speak from what they hear from Raleigh and I, not the many comments made their way in high-pitched half-sentences and incomprehensible babble directed their way now.

So, I guess that's it.  Maybe next time it will be different (because I'll have a little person in tow as proof that I haven't completely screwed up as a parent), and maybe it won't.  I guess that even if I get to deal with all this during pregnancy (the good and the less-than-great), the best, BEST part is still ahead and will be worth all that's brought us to this point--when we finally get to see the face of the little one we love so much, and hold him/her in our arms.