So lately, I’ve been getting some negative feedback (in real life, not on this blog.) From what they think they know about me, some people say I will be unable to tolerate the pain of labor. That I’ll be begging for an epidural as soon as I feel the first contraction. Lots of women opt for epidurals, and I’m not going to pick on anyone for doing what is right for them. However, in this context, my “friend” was implying that I am a big weenie. But further more, she then raised herself up (she’s also pregnant with her first) and implied that she was not scared of labor or pain and would be “strong.” As in, she would not opt for the epidural because she is somehow better than me.
Yeah, it pissed me off.
But the real kicker came from a family member. She thinks, because of my size, I am going to somehow create a gigantic baby that will have to be delivered with forceps, some kind of supernatural lubricant, the prayers of Tibetan monks, magic spells and failing all of that, a cesarean section. She doesn’t say if it’s because I’m tall or because I’m fat. Maybe it’s a combination of the two. Neither of those are medical reasons that would cause bigger babies. In fact, the only thing I know of that does cause larger babies is gestational diabetes. And I passed my glucose tolerance test with flying colors, thank you very damn much.
She said my baby would weigh 10 pounds at delivery.
First of all, who in the hell thinks it’s okay to tell a pregnant woman these things? Apparently my friends and family. Not all of them, to be sure. I have some wonderful, very supportive friends who tell me that I’m doing everything right and will be a great mother. They are the ones I cry to when shit like this is spewed in my general direction.
And yeah, I get that my pregnant friend is in a less than ideal situation at the moment. And I’m the only other pregnant woman she knows to “compete” against. But really, we’re all fucking sensitive right now. Why not support each other instead of tearing each other down? She’s a delicate fucking flower, well so am I! I’ve got feelings too, you jerk.
But for my family to launch into me as well, it just feels cold. It seems like these are the people who should support you at your lowest. Instead they hypothesize about your health and the size of your baby from eight hundred miles away while sipping on gin & tonics. The only thing I said, the only thing, was that when I went in for my 24 week appointment the doctor said I was measuring 24.5 weeks. The doctor seemed not in the least bit worried about it. Not an ounce of worry in her voice. But my family now feels they have full sway to not only comment on it but theorize on the eventual outcome.
Which means that from now on, I’ll have to keep them in the dark on the baby’s growth. Because if I say he’s still measuring half a week bigger than expected, they’ll turn it into something ridiculous. And that’s the last thing my nerves need right now.
I hope I don’t feel this stressed out for the rest of the pregnancy. Maybe now I just need to start tuning out the negative folks in my life and concentrate on myself and Gibson. Start meditating or something. Jeez.