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I have to say, I’ve been genuinely surprised by the sheer number of women in my circle lately—just casual acquaintances, really, like my dentist and her assistant, a few colleagues at the office, even just random women I run into in my apartment complex, at the grocery store, or while waiting for my maternity appointment. They’ve all been incredibly kind, asking about the pregnancy in such a thoughtful way. Their comments are always so soothing and supportive; they share their own experiences without being intrusive, and everyone seems to wish me nothing but the best for the delivery. It honestly feels as if I’ve suddenly been inducted into some sort of secret club where everyone is remarkably sweet! I’m noticing this so much more because, truth be told, I don't think I was ever that warm or attentive toward pregnant women in the past—mostly just because I’ve never been pregnant myself—and now I feel a bit guilty about it... I suppose I’ll make sure to pay this kindness forward to some expectant mother down the road. 🙂
It honestly drives me crazy that I end up staining every single shirt I own with food; I suppose it’s just because my stomach makes it impossible to lean in close enough to the table while I'm eating.
I’ve been lurking here since the very beginning of my pregnancy (I’m currently at 31 weeks and 4 days), and I honestly spent most of it worrying that I’d be the absolute worst kind of expectant mother. But I have to admit, certain things are starting to get under my skin—not even the physical stuff like people touching my belly, necessarily, but rather how close friends and colleagues act. It’s sweet, I suppose, and I feel like I’m just passing along the little one's greetings, but it can be a bit much. 😍
Then again, you could probably understand my mood if you were stuck in a packed subway car—I just sit there glaring, wondering if anyone is actually going to try and take a bite out of me; I’m constantly on edge, which is likely why no one has dared approach me yet... 🤣
But honestly, the cashiers at Target are what really get to me lately! I’ve finally realized the pattern—it’s my stomach; it isn't massive, but it’s definitely there, visible, and it’s obvious I’m struggling while I’m hunched over trying to grab items from the cart. She just sits there waiting for me to pull out a six-pack of chicken breasts or a giant gallon of milk by myself, and I find myself wondering if she could maybe just stand up and use that little handheld scanner so I don't have to bend over for the heavy stuff—but no, apparently I'm expected to lift everything myself. And then, like some sort of idiot, she starts spinning that huge heavy item around under the laser scanner while the actual handheld gun just sits in its holster waiting for retirement. It is absolutely infuriating.