Friday, March 13, 2015

Don't Ask

It's happened three times in the last six weeks.

The first time, it was a casual gesture toward my mid-section accompanied by, "How many does this make for you now?"  I mercifully misunderstood the question, and seconds after answering, "I have four girls!" I realized that I was actually being asked something quite different.  I swore never to wear that high-waisted dress again and laughed about it with Tony.

I began exercising regularly the next day.

A month later, it was an acquaintance shyly approaching me and whispering, "Can I ask you something?  Are you pregnant again?"  I smiled and said, "No!  But thank you for motivating me to exercise more!"  I couldn't blame the clothing this time.  Tony and I laughed about it again.

I swore off dessert the next day.

Finally, a few days ago, I couldn't believe my ears when I heard an exclamation: "Oh! You're going to have another baby!"  I put on my best half-smile and said, "No ... I'm not."  I could feel that my eyes weren't smiling with my mouth, though.

When I got home that day, I broke down sobbing.  Third time's a charm!
That night, I broke down sobbing again.
Tony held me and listened, because what does a good husband say?

(By the way, I don't have hard feelings toward any of the people who asked me those questions.  All three of them are the sweetest people.)

I do weigh more than I weighed in college, but I am not overweight.  I am happy with myself.  I have a happy husband.  I have happy children.  I exercise as much as I care to at this season in my life.  But I HAVE A BABY BUMP that I cannot get rid of  (well, not fast enough, anyway) because I have carried inside of me, practically back-to-back, four of the best children God has ever graced the earth with -- I even carried two of them at the same time.

I thought that awkwardly getting asked if you're pregnant is something that happens to every woman once in her lifetime.  Apparently, I get to hear it regularly.  The only thing I can change is how it affects me, and I'm not going to pretend like it hasn't affected me, cumulatively.

My consolation is this: if I had to do it all again, knowing that I would lose my girly figure and get asked awkward questions in public, I would.  Because the end result is worth it.  Now, if somebody can just help me out by reminding me of that next time I get asked ...