I am special because I am pregnant…
Being preggo is probably the only time in a chick’s life where random people will shamelessly put their hands on you, and ask intimate questions about your health. Usually, people don’t give a care if you are sleeping, or having regular bowel movements… but when you have baby in there, suddenly you are a magnet for attention and concern.
Some women hate to have their personal space violated in this manner, but I for one, think it is awesome. Just by being in a public space, people want to talk to me, or give me affection by rubbing my belly. In my book… that is pretty freaking fantastic. Yes, it may be strange to be in a grocery store while receiving unsolicited advice on hemorrhoids, but when else will complete strangers relate to you with this same level of intimacy?
We are such a guarded culture, avoiding all eye contact or potential interaction with the humans around us. Most of us live our lives on the defense, doing whatever we can, not to interact with our fellow species… unless, of course, there is the social lubricant of alcohol/substances to coat the moment with a heightened sense of self-confidence. It is a rare occasion that we interact with others in a way that breaks down the barriers of social norms, and actually acknowledges the insanity that is humanity.
The fact that a baby, a miniature human, ignites an abandonment of social convention makes me think the human trepidation about other humans is just that… our conditioning. That maybe, we are actually hyper social beings that crave the energetic exchange that can only be acquired through another person? Maybe being a super preggo chick reminds people of their own vulnerability of wanting to be loved and that is why they are so quick to share a piece of themselves with me?
Although it may get old telling people when I am due, or that I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl, I will never tire of being appreciated and acknowledged. It is not like I am doing anything but walking around with my big pregnant belly, but I have gotten more positive attention than I ever have on my 30 years on this planet. And believe you me, that has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with this creature that kicks my ribs when I am trying to eat an organic turkey burger and then punches my bladder with little demonic hands just to make sure I am paying attention. Once I squeeze this puppy out, I am sorely going to miss hearing stories about nipple infections and stuffing bra’s with cabbage as I get my Star Magazine.