One of the weirdest things to get used to when being pregnant is having people stare at your midsection. Not unlike many women, weight is a very senstive issue for me. For years I have worked hard to get to and maintain a healthy weight. The idea that whenever I walk into a room, people are actually staring- not just looking, staring- to analyze belly growth, well, it's a bit difficult to get used to.
There are days when I'm happy to have it all hang out. I will search for something clingy to wear (not hard to do), and think nothing of sitting like a guy, all slouched back in a chair, legs sprawled, displaying my ponch to the world. I will actually welcome the over-happy, over-curious, no-sense-of-personal-space hands of those that just have to touch it. On these days, I am relieved to be pregnant, where I don't have to worry about whether or not I look fat, and for that matter, I don't really care what I look like at all. On these days, anything goes, I am pregnant- it is an identity, a statement, even a style.
And then there are the days when half of my closet is on the floor, shirts inside-out from having been frustratingly whipped-off when they "just don't look right." "I feel fat," I tell my husband, his cue to help me reframe (no pun intended) the situation. "You're not fat, you're pregnant."
The early weeks of pregnancy were some of the hardest for me, growing out of my clothes but not yet looking pregnant. I was already uncomfortable in my jeans when it was yet too early to tell people I was expecting. I groaned as I struggled with zippers: are people going to think I'm just gaining a ton of weight? How reassuring and exciting it was to eventually hear people say, "you're showing!" "Look at that cute belly you're growing!" Or the ever-weird, "you've popped!" The latter I have always found to be a little less than flattering. Being hormonal and getting used to my new shape, I already felt like a mess. I didn't need to be described as having popped. It's like I combusted, pieces of me all over the place.
It was when I had already, ahem, popped, that I began seeing a patient who had recently moved to Minnesota from Egypt with his parents. One day, a different nurse made a home visit to the family. She had asked, "is Kirsten the nurse that usually sees you?" The dad reportedly thought a bit, and said, "I think that was her name...is she the one that's a little bit short, and a little bit fat?" Needless to say, when I heard about my depiction, that day quickly went from a good-belly to a bad-belly day. Darn it. I thought I was looking pregnant.
When I purchased my first pair of maternity pants from an overpriced retail store, I took off the tags and tossed them on the floor before putting them on. It wasn't until a day later when I noticed that one of the tags was hot pink, which worked in its goal of getting my attention. It said, "Yes, you look beautiful." Whoah. This was an insightful little clothing tag. How did it know that I was checking out my butt to see if it had gotten bigger....again? How did it know that I was wishing that I had purchased a couple of long maternity shirts to pair with the pants, as half of the shirts I owned now had a tendency to sneak up my back every time I sat down? I smiled as I marched to the bathroom, and placed the tag on the mirror. I could use reading this sentiment as I started and ended my day. And that's when I noticed, it was not a tag, it was a magnet. The clothing vendor may be overpriced, but they are intuitive. A message about reassurance and beauty is a beautiful thing at a time when the "glowing" days are often outnumbered by the ones where you feel a little bit fat.
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