It Might Be Hormones, or Maybe the Questions Really ARE Stupid

Don’t joke about eating your baby after it’s born. Apparently morbidity is not an acceptable sense of humor when you’re expecting a child. It doesn’t matter how stupid the question is or how many times you get asked. I have learned from experience that the following is not a society-approved manner of dealing with irritability at someone’s mundane questions (keep in mind, I see this woman every other week):

Her: It’s getting closer to your due date, isn’t it?
Me: Yep.
Her: Are you getting excited?
Me: Oh yes. My family has been preparing for the ritual sacrifice and consumption of a newborn for YEARS now.

Ok, so I didn’t actually say that. But I WANTED to. I’m so, so, SO sick of the stupid questions. Yesterday I had THE baby conversation TWICE.

People: Are you expecting?
Me: Yes.
People: When are you due?
Me: March 11.
People: Is it a boy or girl?
Me: Girl.
People: What’s her name?
Me: Charlotte.
People: What’s her middle name?
Me: Rayne.
People: (various murmurs of approval) Is this your first?
Me: Yes.
People: Are you excited?
Me: (something that means yes.)
People: How do your parents feel about it?
Me: (something that means they’re happy, too.)

Why, God, WHY??? I would rather spend my time with my head hanging over the toilet bowl than have that conversation AGAIN. I’m considering crawling under a rock til I go into labor to avoid meeting another human being and having to answer those stupid questions again. And the first lady I was talking about? I have that conversation with her every other Wednesday. I’m so sick of talking about the blah facts of my pregnancy. I would love to share stories about my birth board, vent about the things people do that get on my nerves, joke about my food cravings, etc. But I hate the “how are you feeling?” and other typical questions.

See, now this is where Facebook comes in handy. I keep people updated on how far along I am, I talk about the new and interesting things in my pregnancy, and people who ask follow up questions have questions I actually enjoy answering. I get questions about her kicking, about the nursery, about the supplies we need for her, how Tom is doing, and specific questions about how we’re coping emotionally. Not “so, are you excited?” or “how are you feeling”, but like “What does Tom think about all the pink?” and “Can’t you just see Tom with that little girl? He’s going to be so cute” and then we proceed to speculate about tea parties and how wrapped around her finger Tom will be. Cute stuff. Personal stuff. Stuff I can gush about happily as I look forward to the birth process.

But I guess I shouldn’t complain too much. Hardly anyone has tried to dump on me the horror of their birth experiences. I’ve had some commiseration from my mother, which was completely solicited and actually made me feel better. But no one said “Oh yeah, I was like that too, except a lot worse” or “well it might be going fine now, but the doctor could do this really horrible, painful, disfiguring etc thing to you…” Thank goodness. God help me if I become one of THOSE women.