When I was pregnant with my Little Man, I soon met two kinds of women: those who did not have kids and had a million questions and those who did have kids and had a million suggestions. The first group of women were fun at first. They would look at me with such awe and wonder about the miracle of life growing inside me and say really flattering lies like “you are just GLOWING!” Then, I realized I was having the same conversations over and over again. Yes, I feel tired. No, I don’t have any weird cravings. Yes, it’s weird to feel the baby move. No, I’m no SO SCARED about pushing a baby out of me, but thanks for bringing it up… again.
I soon found comfort in the second group of women: the “experienced” mothers. Now THEY really got it. One look at my belly and they would know exactly how far along I was, had suggestions on how to not be so tired, and generally be able to commiserate with whatever I was experiencing that day. Then… they started getting on my nerves. They would start to ask me questions that forced me to examine my baby’s entire future. “Who’s your doctor?” “What’s your birth plan?” “Are you going to get an epidural?” “Are you going to eat the placenta? (yes, so many times people asked me about eating the placenta.) “What’s the sex of the baby?” “You’re not going to find out the sex of the baby?!?” “Are you going to get him circumcised?” “How long will you breastfeed?” “Are you going to do public or private schools?” “Why are you crying?” I soon found out that these really weren’t questions as much as they were introductions to their point of view on the best way to parent. Soon, what started out as a caring conversation about my journey into motherhood turned into a series of terrifying anecdotes about their lives. And once I expressed something that didn’t line up with how they did things, the Mommy Wars were born. “Oh, you’re going to use cloth diapers? That’s… great! I mean, I could never do it or want to because it’s disgusting, but that’s fun for you”. “Oh, you’re going to try for a natural birth? Wow… cool. I mean, there’s no way I would ever do that because I basically died when I gave birth and it was the worst experience ever, but that’s great that you’re doing it. But, don’t worry if you give up and get the epidural. I mean, it’d be INSANE to not get the epidural.” Mommy Wars live in the pause between what you say you are going to do and what they say they are going to do. The judgement is both internal and external. I can’t believe she’s doing that. Should I be doing that? It’s rarely explicit and most of the time, it is all in your head. I try not to engage in it or let myself be judged or judge myself.
Then I found out I was pregnant again.
It is most certainly true that the second pregnancy has about half of the luster as the first. I’m twice as busy as I was with Little Man and quite frankly, I don’t even have time to think about the fact that we are doing this again. It’s terrible, I know. I recently changed jobs shortly after we found out we were expecting and the two environments couldn’t be more different. I went from working at a large company with a small regional office to a small start-up with triple the employees. Old Job: Full of the 1st group. New job: Full of the 2nd group. The biggest difference is that now that I am working with an older crowd (and by that, I mean people my age or older, not fresh out of college), being pregnant is just not that big of a deal. People have babies. It’s what we do. Also, I’m not even the only pregnant person there. There are 2 on maternity leave right now and another manager that recently announced her pregnancy. And then… there is the Basketball Smuggler.
She recently joined the company to help with a project and as soon as she introduced myself, I couldn’t help but look at her belly. It was a double take because I really couldn’t tell if she was pregnant or just ate a basketball shaped burger in one bite. She has the kind of belly that looks like she is on a low budget TV show when the hot girl gets pregnant but the network doesn’t want her to look like an ACTUAL pregnant person because that would be disgusting. It’s Rachel from Friends and it is making me hate myself everyday.
I just found out that she is actually 7 months pregnant and it is ALL just in her belly. I’m sure if I asked her, she would tell me that she’s gained so much weight and that her ankles are huge, but I know better. She hasn’t gained a pound on her own. It’s all just baby. Me, on the other hand… I have gained all of the pounds. It is also certainly true that you start showing way sooner with the second child than with the first. I’m just a little over 4 months and I look 6, which puts me one month behind Basketball Smuggler except for 45lbs heavier. Even worse, I am not showing in the cute way. In fact, those who don’t know me at this company probably don’t know that I am even pregnant. They probably just think that I am a big fan of all the free food they provide (which I am). It doesn’t help my case that I am usually the first one in line for lunch and the mornings they do deliver tacos, I am conveniently just waiting around the break room, just seeing if they need anything in there… and… oh? Are those tacos? I guess it’d be rude to not take one immediately…
I know that the un-pregnant version of myself would say “stop, you look beautiful because you are growing a life and that is always beautiful” and I would say “don’t be so hard on yourself because every pregnancy is different and you will bounce back”. And I know these things are true, but the bump wars exist like the mommy wars exist: in the pauses between my reality and someone else’s and undoubtably, entirely in my mind.
**And yes, I have now become the “experienced mom” that probably passes judgement, overshares, and scares people without kids about having kids, but I’ve earned that right!
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