Below are the results of a pregnancy-related questions/comments poll, as tallied from a department-wide meeting this morning:
6 – “How are you feeling!?”
5 – “When are you due again?”
2 – “Are you losing weight while you’re pregnant!?”
1 – “I’m coming to see you when it’s hot outside in a couple of weeks to poke you.” (Perhaps my favorite)
One hovering belly rub. Right. No touching… just… a belly rub, hovered over my belly. Like… wax on, wax off.
And two people at the same time telling me a synopsis of The Happiest Baby On The Block, as to save me the time and money of needing to read the whole book, or anything past the first chapter, really, or so they say. Apparently the noise in my womb is as loud as a vacuum, among other titillating tidbits.
There were a couple of horror stories (“You know, my daughter didn’t sleep all the way through the night until she was 15 months old”), some terminology I hadn’t heard before (“Oh, it was because her ‘cluster feeding’ occurred overnight”), and suggestions regarding sex-specific clothing (“You could put your daughter in anything blue, but you can’t put even the darkest of purples on your son”). Also, one recommendation to go to a chiropractor to get my pelvis adjusted, as opposed to just getting prenatal massages, from the woman who did massages with her first child, and pelvic adjustments with her second.
Regarding my due date, I had one person tell me that was her mother’s birthday, and another man obscurely tell me that “Well, that is a very important day for me, however, I won’t tell you why unless you give birth that day.” Oooook.
I also managed to avoid all questions regarding the name Vegas (since it went out on our baby shower announcement), of which I was delighted about, but still had many people tell me how excited they were for said baby shower. I was also strongly encouraged by several people to take away a stash of pastries and fruit back to my office – you know, for later. For when later? For when I’m sitting in my office craving stale raspberry-filled publicly-picked-over donuts and warm, slimy honeydew melon? No way, dude.
On another note, I printed out all of our thousands of pages (OK, maybe just 50 or so) of class reading material, and whereas the childbirth and baby care items all look recognizable in nature, it has occurred to me that I know jack squat about breastfeeding. It’s not too surprising, since I don’t come from a long line of breastfeeders. I’m pretty stoked about giving it a try and sticking to it for the first six months or so, if everything works well, but won’t be completely devastated if my body sends different signals. Anyhow, thank goodness there’s a whole two-hour class on that subject alone, cause I’m going to need it, apparently.