Suddenly you realize

when you're 7 months pregnant, that your single friends don't want to actually hang out with you. They still love you, but talking on the phone works best. After all, it's strange to look at you, you can't drink, and plus -- you can't really do anything fun. And who wants to go out with a pregnant woman. Anyway, she SHOULD be taking it easy. She SHOULDN'T be going out. And there's nothing cool about being seen with someone that's pregnant. And can I blame anyone? Not really. There's really nothing to bring up with anyone, because I remember it and understand it. I remember before I had Emmett, I knew this girl that was HUGLY pregnant with her second child. When I went out with her, I felt like the only role I could fit into was "helping". I didn't feel like she was an actual person. I just felt like she was pregnant and I was an assistant and we were having a "nice", "wholesome" time. My good times happened with non-pregnant, flexible, energetic people. And when I would leave her, it would be back to normal life.

Remembering this creates this forceful rebellion in me and I work hard to not show my physical limitations. When someone asks me how I feel, I downplay it as much as possible. When it's by a non-parent friend, I offer no information, pretending that there's nothing different. "Oh, I'm fine!" I feel almost defensive. I feel a desire to remind them that this is not who I really am. With parent friends, I feel normal and I tell them what's happening.

Unlike my pregnancy with Emmett, I feel very conspicous looking to non-parent friends and abnormal and strange in a sci-fi sort of way. I feel every ounce of my coolness is drained into maternity fashion. I feel keenly aware of the fact that my energy and appearance contribute greatly to being popular with friends that don't have children. I did an experiment when I was in college with this and realized that for me, the likable side of my personality is directly connected with my appearance.

By and large, I feel like a person with a terminal illness. At this point, I feel most comfortable with other parents because I know they get it. I know they know I can't help it. And I know they understand that there's no way to be supercool with 40 extra pounds and a gigantic belly.

Comments are disabled on this one because anything anyone writes I won't believe anyway. I think everyone knows what I mean. I'm just voicing all this. And this isn't directed at anyone in particular. It's very general and connected to feelings that I had before I had Emmett.

PLEASE DON'T THINK I'M TALKING ABOUT ANYONE IN PARTICULAR OR OVERLY ASK ME TO HANG OUT... THIS IS JUST AN OBSERVATION. I"M OVER THE SADNESS TODAY (Tues)