There are many things to say to a woman in the earlier stages of her pregnancy. "Can I hold your hair back?" "So you know, I can call a guy who "knows people" to take care of that guy who made the tuna."
As time passes into the early 2nd trimester, and the green face goes back to her normal "beyond the pale", there's not much to report and, to my mind, not much to comment on. It's a few weeks of a holding pattern time in gestation. Looks-wise, you thicken up a little, like maybe you did on Spring Break or a semester at college. Well, that's been my experience. I look like I should switch to lite beer.
Spoiler alert: I've just crossed into the 2nd trimester of my 2nd pregnancy. The first pregnancy ended last April with me getting very sick and hospitalized with severe pre-eclampsia and HELLP syndrome. After 2 weeks of hospital management and bed rest, I had to have an emergency c-section and lost my dear son, Daniel, who lived a short 3 hours. So here my husband and I are, hoping and praying lightening doesn't strike twice and break our hearts. We are hopeful yet cautious to think that perhaps my body will not dick us over a second time.
Anyway, with this pregnancy, it has been a pretty different experience. I have been puking sick or had times of no appetite whereas last time I felt no differently. On The Nausea/Feel-Like-Ass Richter Scale, probably not a 10 on a 1-10, but I would say there were 3 weeks I was and 8.5 (yeah, Thanksgiving was a blast - watching people eat) and then worked down to a 6-7 for another 3 weeks. As of today I am finally back to my pre-pregnancy weight but have a little pudge. Lah-dee-dah, I know.
At work, I'm a pretty private person. I have a few people I share stuff with, and given the sensitivity of having a high-risk pregnancy coupled with losing my son last Spring, I haven't exactly been chomping at the bit to tell everyone at work I'm pregnant. A few people were told - my manager, my "work husband", and 2 other colleagues (1 was told because I was so sick, I blurted it in a moment of vulnerability (swearing her to zip the lip); the other was just the other day - as I said to her I would officially announce it soon).
Now I want to play take-backs on that last idea of telling people. As I was explaining some work-related issues with a co-worker, out of nowhere she says:
"Jen, you look like you swallowed a basketball."
People, I am 15 weeks pregnant. Yeah, sure - some shit has moved around and not looking too cute, but when you account for the 0 lbs change on a 5'7" frame, ...FOR THE LOVE. A BASKETBALL? I look different but I don't look DIFFERENT, if you know what I mean.
So without missing a beat, I grunt, "uh-huh" and continue right along with my work issues.
She knows - I heard there's been some chatter. Maybe someone in the Trust Circle of Tree blabbed or maybe someone overheard something or put 2 + 2 together on one of my bad days. I do not know. P.S. I do not care. But I think if you want to open the diologue for a woman to say, "hey, I'm pregnant", here's a thought:
Don't insult her.
So, fuck it. Not telling her or the people around her desk. I will suck it in as long as I can. Or I will get so big to the point it's comical and be all, "well, I guess I could be hitting the gym a little harder."
As a result of that gem, what I've decided to do here is to take the remark (and my pettiness) and turn it into useful information. Consider the following a Working Pregnant Dictionary of Sports Equipment Metaphors. If you've read this, there's no reason to fuck it up anymore. Pay attention.
(I would like to thank my husband Mike, who busted me in the earlier stages of this documentation, and helped me take the majority of the photos here.)
(Also, please note theses photos were taken on the day of the comment, after which I put on tighter clothing, watched some Idol, ate dinner, flossed, and then did these. This is the day's worst case scenario.)
Fig. 1: The Players
Left to right: Football, deflated Soccer ball, Ab Slide, Softball Glove with Softball, Basketball (regulation size), deflated volleyball.
Fig 2: The Pregnant Model with Absolutely No Modeling Experience. (no, really):
Figure 3: "Mama's swallowed a softball" baby:
Fig 3.1 Homage to Heidi Montag-Pratt "I'm not addicted to plastic surgery. I'm just obsessed. BIG DIFFERENCE, YOU GUYS."
"I swear, that 3rd boob just came out of nowhere."
Fig. 4: "Awww, it's a softball glove. How cute are you?":
Fig. 5: That Pats are a touchy subject 'round these parts. Let's just move on, shall we? (aka The Football):
My husband thinks I'm weird. I wonder why that is.
Fig. 6: In the year 2000, in an effort to help her out, I once lied on my sister Em's resume and stated under "Interests" that she played volleyball. Both this photo and that resume have two things in common: 1. the volleyball and 2. they're both padded.
Fig 7: OKay, so the Ab Slide was a little tricky
Fig 8: The Soccer Ball:
Look as the model spontaneously commits to an action shot. A natural.
Fig 9: The ACTUAL BASKETBALL. PAY ATTENTION, FRIENDS.:
Fig 10: For handy comparison, again - the "work basketball":
At the end of the day, none of these comparisons matter. Really. So long as by June, me and my abdominal region are looking something like this, I will be bullet proof to any comparison you throw at me.