At some point last week or the week before (they all run together nowadays), it occurred to me that pregnant women are the biggest liars in the world. At least if most are anything like I am, they are the biggest liars. Don't get me wrong, I've had a great pregnancy and would, (will) do it again without a second thought. But how many of us, pregnant or not, when asked, "How are you?" say, "Just fine," when really we aren't?
I say that pregnant women are especially the biggest liars because that seems to be a popular question that I get asked several times everyday. I know that this means that I see people who care about me everyday, and that's good, but I still lie to most of them.
"So how are you feeling?"
"I'm tired. I'm huge. There's this spot in my back that won't quit hurting. I have to pee all the time. I'm gassy. I have heartburn. Did I say I'm huge?"
That's what I want to say. But instead, I say, "I've felt great. Can't complain at all," simply because I feel like I can't complain. There are so many women who have had morning sickness and blood pressure problems, very preemie births and a multitude of other problems. So who am I to complain about all these little problems?
Still doesn't mean I didn't lie to them though.
I have used this response, and should probably use it more:
"How are you feeling?"
That's not a lie. But it keeps me from complaining.
I suppose that I was inspired to put all of this down in words after this weekend. For posterity's sake, I had a stomach bug on Thanksgiving. I go 8 years without catching a stomach bug and then manage to get one when I'm 8 months pregnant on Thanksgiving Day nonetheless. This weekend was the first time that I truly wished I wasn't pregnant. Not so much because I felt bad, but because I was afraid that anything I was doing was hurting little Josiah. Not eating, not drinking much, then taking a Zantac for indigestion (the doc told me to), not eating "healthy" stuff, pushing myself to hard, and some other gory details that I'll spare you.
Yet, this somehow makes me a little proud. Somewhere in the first and second trimesters, I made the statement that I think I was the only pregnant-by-choice woman in the world who was scared of babies. But now I've started to feel that love that I'm convinced only God can make me feel for my unborn little baby boy. And this weekend was a bit of an emotional rollercoaster just letting the thought cross my mind that I might have hurt him, that I couldn't or didn't take care of him like I should have.
There's my confession I suppose. It makes me feel better anyway to get all of that out. There's so much more than I can say, but maybe I should just take a cue from one of my favorite movies, The Italian Job, and when someone asks how I'm doing I should say, "FINE." Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic and Emotional. I've heard pregnancy will do that to you :)