The Rules

I was thinking this afternoon that despite the awful heat (I think the weather report said 87 degrees; clearly, I am not cut out for warmer climates) it is pretty wonderful to be pregnant during the summer. At least, it's wonderful to be in my second trimester during the summer. The worst of my sickness has more or less passed, but I'm not so huge and uncomfortable and swollen that I can't enjoy my favorite summer activities -- hiking, for instance, or making weekend trips to Seattle, or hanging out in the backyard wading pool with Suzannah in the afternoons.

I realized it's also nice not to be surrounded by coworkers who comment all the time on various aspects of my pregnancy. When I was pregnant with Suzannah, I wasn't quite prepared for the extent to which casual acquaintances would feel entitled to tell me how huge I was every day. The break has been nice. But it got me thinking about how people seem to feel so entitled when it comes to pregnant women; they lose their filters, or something. So, just for fun, I made a list of Rules For Dealing With Pregnant Women. See, to me, this is all just common sense -- or common courtesy. But pregnancy turns perfectly nice people into very thoughtless people sometimes, and I'm not talking about the pregnant women here.

(This is mostly based on my experiences of being pregnant with Suzannah; this time around I'm more sheltered -- because it's summer! -- and I have better comebacks for situations that previously left me with my jaw hanging stupidly open, so I'm less bothered in general.)

1. There is only one appropriate comment to make regarding a pregnant woman's body: "You look great!" (Or amazing, or awesome...you get the picture.)

I can pretty much guarantee that every pregnant woman, no matter how large or not-large she is, no matter how she's carrying, no matter how far along she is, will be subjected to the following:

"Wow, you're HUGE."
"Are you sure there's only one baby in there?"
"Your boobs are huge!"
"You're never going to make it to your due date!"
And also, bizarrely, "Wow, you're really small for how far along you are." (This doesn't feel like a compliment, so don't try to make it into one. It feels like a suggestion that there is something wrong with the baby. Is that overreacting? I don't know, maybe. But come up with a better "compliment" (see above).

You get the idea. I heard every single one of these and more when I was pregnant with Suzannah. I heard you're really huge/you're really small on the same day, even. I find it kind of astounding how people feel entitled to comment on women's bodies just because they're pregnant. Would you honestly comment on a woman's size -- especially to her face -- if she weren't pregnant? I'm guessing not unless you want to get punched.

2. It is not appropriate to touch a pregnant woman's belly without her permission.

Okay, I'll admit to being less sensitive about this than some women are. I never minded when people touched my belly when I was pregnant with Suzannah, and I don't think I will this time around, either. It feels very life-affirming to me, somehow. And I love pregnant bellies! They're awesome! And it's amazing to feel babies kick -- that's my favorite part of being pregnant, and I love sharing that. If you're a good friend or a family member, I'm probably not going to mind your touching the belleh without formal written permission or whatever. I've never had a stranger try, although I know it happens, and that is just creepy. So...don't rub pregnant strangers' bellies, okay? Sheesh.

Also, a lot of women simply don't appreciate uninvited touches. You wouldn't grab a woman's stomach when she's not pregnant, right? Newsflash: it's still her body. Pregnancy doesn't turn it into public property.

3. It is never okay to share horror stories concerning pregnancy or childbirth with pregnant women.

Unfortunately, I don't know a pregnant woman who hasn't been subjected to this at some point. For some reason, people feel compelled to share stories of "people they know" who suffered terrible things during pregnancy and childbirth, and they feel compelled to share them with pregnant women. Don't tell a pregnant woman about your friend who miscarried, a friend who lost her baby during childbirth, a friend of a friend who knew someone's cousin who had a baby that died only a week before her due date. There is a time for sharing these stories, and I certainly don't mean to minimize the pain of these tragedies, but talk about them with your non-pregnant friends.

True story for you: When I was in my fifth month of pregnancy with Suzannah, a coworker stopped me in the office and asked how far along I was.

"About five months," I replied.

"Oh. I knew someone who lost her baby in the fifth month."

I know what you're thinking, if you're a reasonably sensitive person: Who says that kind of thing? Unfortunately, pregnant women hear these types of things all the time. Believe me, I know about all the horrible things that can go wrong in a pregnancy. I'd go so far as to say I'm far, far more aware of such things than anyone who is not currently pregnant; every fear I have is pretty much wrapped up in this kind of "what-if." So even if your friend's horror story has a happy ending, save it for a time after my baby is in my arms.

4. Along the same lines, don't tell a pregnant woman all the circumstances that would cause YOU to consider terminating your pregnancy.

I need this to not turn into a pro-life/pro-choice, thing, okay? It's not about that, it's about sensitivity. Matt and I chose to decline all genetic tests, screens, etc. because the outcomes (many of which are often only risk assessments and not definitive results anyway) would not, I hope, cause me to terminate my pregnancy. Some people would rather be prepared, even if they chose to continue the pregnancy, and I completely respect that; in my case, I want to enjoy and appreciate my pregnancy as much as possible without the fear of "what-if" or without being pressured into additional, more invasive testing if our risk ratio came back a little "high." Again, that's just my choice. Don't ask me about it, though, and then tell me that you would definitely not carry a pregnancy that [fill in the blank]. First of all, good for you, and second of all, I think it's pretty impossible to know what you would do in such a situation until you're living it yourself. Anyway, it's insensitive and upsetting to me, so I imagine this might be true of other pregnant women as well.

5. If a pregnant woman shares her name choices with you, unless she specifically asks for your opinion (and you are quite sure she actually wants it), there is only one appropriate response: "I love it!" or "That's great!" And for crying out loud, don't suggest alternatives if you don't like it.

We knew that if we had a girl, her name would be Suzannah. Sometime, maybe I'll write the story of her name and how it came to us, but for now, just know that it was a.) special to both of us and b.) one of the few names we actually agreed upon -- so, naturally, I was excited to share it when people asked. Many people were enthusiastic, but I also heard, "Oh, you don't want to name her Suzannah. People will call her Suzie. Ugh." (For the record, no one calls her Suzie. We don't call her Suzie. She's Suzannah, or Zannah. Or Bug.) I didn't particularly care what anyone else thought of our name choice, but it's not a wonderful feeling when someone poops all over something you love, is it? Anyway, I learned my lesson. Matt and I are not sharing our name choices this time around; I really feel that it's something intensely personal and private for now. Besides, I'm looking forward to introducing our baby to the world -- announcing that we have a son, or a daughter, and his or her name is____________. That's going to be a sweet, sweet moment!

6. Don't tell a pregnant woman to enjoy sleep while she can because after the baby comes, she will never sleep again.

I confess, I've probably done this from the depths of my own sleep deprivation hell. But it's just about the stupidest piece of advice ever. It's not like you can store up all that extra sleep anyway, and also: Duh. (Funnily enough, no one is saying that to me this time around. I guess it's less common to hear when you're pregnant with your second child, especially when your first child has been battling a SLEEP ALLERGY for her ENTIRE LIFE. Oh, you know I'm exaggerating. A little.)

7. As a matter of fact, all sentences that begin with "Enjoy_________ while you still CAN!" are kind of annoying.

Don't tell a pregnant woman that her life will be forever changed (especially when you obviously mean DESTROYED) after the birth of her child. She'll figure it out. And maybe she'll be just fine.

8. If a pregnant woman happens to have -- gasp -- a strong opinion! please do not assume that it is because she is all pregnant and hormonal.

I mean, please. If you know me at all, you know that I can be pretty opinionated when I'm not pregnant. My sophomores can get away with stupid assumptions because they are fifteen ("Oh, that's why you were mad at us for no reason a few weeks ago!" "No, I was mad at you because your essays were bad enough to make me want to stick my pen through my eye, and you obviously didn't read the book well enough to have a decent discussion about it, and that is why I made you write instead"). If you're not fifteen, don't be a jerk. And if you really think that my opinions are simply pregnancy-induced, you probably think I'm just an irrational woman the rest of the time anyway. If you want to know how many hormonal fits I've thrown during my pregnancies, ask my husband. Actually, he'd probably lie because he's smart like that, but the truth is that I've been too busy throwing up to throw things at his head. Tee hee.