I was in a restaurant last week with Peter. I’ve mentioned before that I am very pregnant. For a woman who barely approaches the five foot mark, there’s really just not much room for a baby. So my stomach is a remarkable vision of a full-term pregnant woman. Still, it surprised me when not one, but two different tables of people literally stopped conversation and craned their necks to watch me walk past. One man whispered to the rest of his table, “Don’t say anything,” as he stared.
Not my favorite experience, although at this stage in the pregnancy, probably a fair response. I looked up this stage of pregnancy in “Your Pregnancy Week by Week,” and it said, “It would be unusual for you not to be uncomfortable and feel huge at this time. Your uterus has filled your pelvis and most of your abdomen. It has pushed everything else out of the way. At this point in pregnancy, you may think you’ll never want to be pregnant again because you’re so uncomfortable.” It’s actually not that bad, but at least I have affirmation if I want to complain. I only wish I could have told the staring folks at the restaurant that this is normal and nothing to gawk at.
Then there’s Penny and William. They make comments about my “big belly,” but somehow those comments feel supportive and endearing. I guess it’s because they come in the context of loving me, and because when they look at me they see more than my midsection. Last night, William looked at me and said, “You look pretty Mom. You look pretty because you are wearing earrings.” And he gave me a hug.
A few mornings back, Penny asked, “Why you have rosy cheeks, Mom? And a rosy chin? I like your rosy cheeks.”
When the world sees me these days, I’m easily reduced to a spectacle–a nine-months pregnant woman who looks as though she should have been in the hospital yesterday. When my kids see me, they see their mom. The unexpected gift they give is that of seeing me through the eyes of love.
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