The Ground Rules

Now that you know I'm pregnant, let's go ahead and get a few things straight.

1) My body is not open for public comment.

Unless you are my doctor, my husband, or maybe my mom, do not ask me questions about it, except perhaps for a polite "How are you feeling?" (In fact, we can cover that right now. I'm feeling fine, thanks!) The interior workings of my body are a pretty private thing, and I'd appreciate your respect for my wishes to keep them that way. I'm not going to ask about your bowel movements; don't ask me about my urination, digestion, or emesis.

Similarly, please do not inquire about or comment upon any visible changes I'm going through. I'm quite self-conscious about them enough, thanks. In case puberty wasn't fun enough the first time, I'm now going through it again, and this time I'm expected to joyously announce it to the world. "Hey y'all! Just wanted to let you know that over the next nine months my boobs are going to get bigger and I'm going to gain massive amounts of weight! PLEASE FEEL FREE TO POINT THIS OUT TO ME REPEATEDLY IN ORDER TO INCREASE MY DISCOMFORT." And as to whether or not my pants still fit? That is - guess what! - none of your goddamn business.

2) Do not touch me.

Normal types of touching are allowed. If you meet me, you may shake my hand; if we are friends, you may of course hug me. But at no point will any part of my abdomen become a petting zoo. Would you have asked to touch me before I was pregnant? When you weren't using drugs? If the answer is "No," then let's stick with that policy. (If the answer is "Yes," then perhaps our politeness issues are more fundamental.)

3) No horror stories, please.

So you labored for 47 hours and then had to be cut open in a field with a rusty knife? That's nice of you to tell me. I really appreciate your dedication to taking my already-present fears and magnifying them. In fact, I can't think of any more polite offering to someone taking off into a long and frightening adventure into the unknown than, "This is going to be hell."

4) Similarly, no promises that "it will all be worth it when you see your baby."

I'm sure it will. In fact, I'm pretty much counting on it. But I'm not in the mood for your sentimental unicorn puppydog bullshit right now. I'm cranky.