Friday, July 3, 2009

a letter I wrote on Monday

Dear idiot kid in his early 20s who tried to sympathize with me on Sunday about my pregnancy,

You know what, pal? I’ve got a feeling you don’t know what you’re talking about. I wish I’d had longer to talk to you while you were working so hard at your booth at the Taste of Tacoma, but I imagine you must have been exhausted watching people fill up paper cups with 6 ounces of water and I didn’t want to bother you. So please hear me out now.

I was first let on to what sort of brief chat we’d be having after you took one look at me and proclaimed, “Whoa! You’re going to pop any moment, huh?” Young man, I may have but a few years on you, but apparently these are very wise years. Yes, I am at a point in my pregnancy where it is 100% obvious I am pregnant, so I do not have a problem with you acknowledging this. But I have heard so many times in the past month the word “pop” in reference to the hours of grueling labor I am about to endure, that you instantly came across as the sort of guy who has never witnessed or understood the wonders of birth. Please remember this: balloons pop, pregnant women push babies out of themselves. If it was as easy as popping, men would get pregnant too.

Then, when I poured a teeny tiny cup of water, you supposed out loud that I “must be headed to the bathroom like every hour, huh?” Actually, you were wrong. Let me explain why: in the past few weeks my baby has dropped, or moved farther down into the birth canal. This has actually relieved pressure on my bladder, in my case. I can breathe a little easier, I get less heartburn, and I now walk like a drunken cowboy exiting a saloon. When I do have to pee (about every 2 hours, just so you know), I have about a one minute time span to get to the restroom before I go in my pants. Any comments about that? In the future when you see a 9 months-pregnant woman while working the water booth, I would recommend the following phrase instead, “Oh my, you must be tired from walking about the park in your advanced condition on such a hot day. Please take a free bottle of water as a token of my awe for the work you endure on a daily basis in creating a new human.”

Lastly, you seemed very curious about my state, but beyond a man’s normal curiosity. Most men would have offered questions such as, “When are you due?” or “Do you know if it’s a boy or girl?” but you went beyond common tact to A Most Unusual Question that I have not been asked before in either of my pregnancies. “So are you having the baby naturally or did you schedule a C-Section or what?” is by far the strangest thing I’ve ever heard while pregnant. And I’ve had a barefoot stranger woman come grasp my tummy with both hands and insist that he would be a beautiful boy. That was strange. But not as strange as your desire to know my intended method of birth. Perhaps your mother didn’t explain all the basics to you, son, or perhaps you just read Us Weekly too often and think knowing the way a baby comes out is ordinary conversation. Well, my naïve acquaintance, prepare yourself for the full answer to my response, “Natural.” I choose natural childbirth, which is the common term for not having medicine during labor, because I think it is the healthiest option for myself and my son. Also, I value my strong aversion to most drugs and desire to solve most ailments by drinking water and eating better and sleeping more, and I choose not to compromise those values especially while pregnant. But I believe what you were actually asking me was whether or not I was going to have a major surgery. No, I am not going to have a C-Section; in fact I am going to have the baby come headfirst out of my vagina. I was really really kicking myself for not telling you that. (Not literally kicking myself, since of course I can barely lift my swollen feet off the ground, but figuratively there was a lot of kicking going on.)

I am sure that you will understand these things better when you are married someday and your wife is pregnant, but until then you really don’t need to treat pregnant women as freaks. Just make the same casual conversation with them as you would with anyone else: “Hot day, huh?” “Having fun?” “Best water at the fair here.” Okay, bud? Glad we got that clear, and thanks for hearing me out.

Sincerely,
the 9 months-pregnant woman who just wanted a stinking paper cup of water