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NWI Parent
NWI Parent

And so it begins

July 6th, 2011 - By Beth Fletcher

Eli didn’t take an afternoon nap. I had a particularly long day that started too early (thanks, Eli!), I worked a lot, tried to keep up with the house, did some laundry, played with the baby, took care of the big kids. I was so tired.

Brian and Noah had to leave for Noah’s baseball practice, so it was just me, Eli the Grouch and Anna.

We needed a few essentials from the store, like milk, cereal, fruit and Devil Cremes.

So, the three of us hopped in the car and headed to Walmart.

Now, I could easily name about 519 places I’d rather be than Walmart, but you know, a Mama’s gotta do what a Mama’s gotta do.

We had a fair time. Eli played with every other customer in the store, I pointed out important things like “doritos!” and “ice cream!” Anna asked for important things like Barbies and flashlights and then we headed towards the very long checkout lines.

In the next lane was another pregnant woman with two kids. Eli started playing with her son. It was so cute. Then she asked “when are you due?”

“Early October,” I responded. Now, I’m the type of pregnant lady that owns up to her due date. I don’t try to shorten it or wish anything away. If my due date is October 12th, I say “October 12th.” I don’t say “probably late September because I’m the size of an elephant, apparently.” I just answer what I am asked. So the fact that I said early October, was actually strange for me to say.

Her mouth opened. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head and she just sat and stared directly at my belly. Like I was a freak of nature. She looked at me as if I had just told her I spent $139 on a pair of socks. or as if I had a palm tree growing out of my shoulder.

It was so rude, so uncomfortable for me that I actually had to break her stare.

“WHEN ARE YOU DUE?” I said, trying to get her attention.

“I’m due in three weeks, but I hope it’s tomorrow,” she replied.

“Well, good luck.” I replied.

This happened last week, too. (also by another pregnant woman.)

Yes. I am large. I’m measuring 2-3 weeks bigger than a typical 26-weeker. And I’m okay with that.

The reactions, the horrible questions, they’re not just rude. They’re MEAN. And they make people sad. I am not okay with that.

So, just stop. Be nice. You wouldn’t say something like that to a non-pregnant person, so why say it to an emotionally unstable person who will take your words and let them eat her up alive?

I’ll tell you what. I walked in, my sciatica hurting, feeling nauseous.

And I walked out with my heart hurting.

Totally prefer the sciatic pain.

Filed under: parent.

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