Bump Envy

So for a while I've had a major case of bump envy. And before anyone mentions it, let me just declare: I know intellectually that I should be glad and grateful and whatnot that I have not gotten very big yet, that my old clothes still mostly fit (with a little help from the bella band). Grateful that my small belly means that I have avoided balance problems, back problems, and can still competently tie my shoes. And I get that...in my head. But the other part of me, the irrational impulsive one, is just really envious of all those cute pregnancy bumps out there.

Part of this probably stems from being something of a late bloomer in the boobs department. Something of that jealous mentality probably sticks with me. I nudged from non-existent breasts into an unimpressive moderate A-cup over the course of years. It wasn't until the end of college that I had to finally accept that the booby fairy wasn't coming my way with some impressive rack. I had what I had.

I think the other part of my bump envy comes from my sense that the way people treat pregnant women represents what is left of the best of our humanity. There is a social togetherness (sometimes oppressive I'm sure) that leads strangers to smile and talk in ways that otherwise don't really happen in a big city. Whatever damaged vestiges of compassion and kindness to others (some sort of gender-neutral chivalry) are played out for pregnant women. They are offered seats on buses. They are helped with bags.

But for this, you have to be visibly pregnant.

The other day I rode the rush hour el train home from jury duty downtown. I was dressed in a fleece and coat (it was cold) and the train was packed way beyond capacity. No spare square inch. I started overheating but I couldn't get the space to even take my jacket off. I felt sort of weak and woozy and thought seriously about just sitting down on the dirty el floor because I didn't want to fall over. Finally I just imposed my arms all over other people enough to struggle out of my jacket and fleece, and I crouched down over my backpack to try to top feeling woozy. And people just stared at my like I was an inconvenient nut. I wanted to explain, "I'm pregnant. this isn't my fault. I can't help it!" and I found myself jealous of those who carry their explanations for weird behavior prominently on the front of their abdomen for all to see.

Yesterday we went to our first birthing class (ten more to go!). In it there was a couple who were due on March 10th, just four days before we are. And there she sat, all adorably round and rotund. With my tiny little barely-there belly (because lets face it people, its not like I started this venture with washboard abs) I felt sort of like an interloper.

On the other hand, some folks had sort of lumpy bellies. I guess I've nothing to do but keep waiting, try to enjoy my flexibility and comfort, and keep my fingers crossed for a nice belly shape in the future.