I’m not the mom who constantly marvels at the miracle of life that is inside of me. I mean, I do marvel, but I’m also totally creeped out by the whole thing. THERE IS A PERSON GROWING INSIDE OF ME. I have often referred to my pregnancy as Invasion of the Body Snatchers and have had visions of the Alien movies. I haven’t decided if I will be more creeped out or marvel more once I can feel the baby moving. I think the surreal-ness of the whole situation is a large part of me not wanting people to touch my stomach. Since there’s nothing to feel, it’s just people wanting to touch me, and, well, stranger danger. That and it pretty much makes me angry that people think it’s ok to just reach out and touch a pregnant woman’s stomach. For some reason large portions of society see pregnant women’s bodies as communal property or something, or that since there’s a baby in there, the woman’s stomach is a separate entity from the woman herself. Nope. Still my stomach. Still attached to me. Frankly, I’ve never even found it appropriate to ask if I could touch someone else’s stomach because of all of that, but I also get that this is just how things are. If you’ve touched my stomach, or asked to touch my stomach, or are hoping that I will let you touch my stomach at one point, don’t feel guilty. Though it’s not my favorite thing, I know it makes other people happy, so for the most part I’ll probably succumb to social pressure for some people. BUT y’all can just wait until I offer or at least ask. Anyone who comes at me with their hand out is gonna get hit. I know this makes me sound heartless, but I don’t care. Anyone who knows me well isn’t surprised by this blog post in any way.
Anyway, I’m slowly warming up to things. Certainly not all ushy-gushy, but warming up. Will be more excited once Blueberry is a person outside of me and no longer inside, but, alas, that is quite a ways from now. In the meantime, I’ll try to get more used to it and people touching my stomach.