Hey there, world. Let me set the record straight. I am not ill, disabled, or broken.
I am expecting a baby.
I am not weak, needy, or overly dependent.
I am expecting a baby.
I am not ineffective, incapacitated, or incompetent.
I AM EXPECTING A BABY.
I’m not some fragile flower. I’m not delicate. I’m not a princess. I’m not even that special. I’m engaging in an age-old, reliable, and powerful act that humanity has been partaking in for centuries. It’s a condition that’s as natural and fitting for my body as breathing or walking. Yet, some treat me as if I’m an incapable vessel.
Honestly, I’m fed up with the endless rules.
No deli meats— and I mean it— no turkey, salami, or ham. Steak cannot be rare! Eggs must be cooked thoroughly— no runny yolks! Cookie dough? Forget it! Avoid unpasteurized products. Fish? Only cooked. And let’s not even get started on cheese— no stinky varieties like Brie, feta, or anything with blue veins! Listeria! E-coli!
No coffee.
No wine.
Not a drop! Better to be safe than sorry.
Okay, maybe one cup of coffee is permissible, but not two. Two is crossing the line. Why do we have to be so extreme about this?
You know what? I’m not going to harm myself or my baby if I have a couple of cups of coffee when I’m having a tough day.
I won’t even be in danger if I have a glass of (gasp!) wine.
Okay, I might actually have a problem with that since I’m a recovering alcoholic, but that’s beside the point. Instead of enforcing ridiculous restrictions like “Thou shalt not touch deli meats for 10 months,” how about we approach this with common sense? Just don’t eat it every day, avoid questionable sources, and steer clear of food left out for too long.
Let’s just be reasonable, shall we?
And while we’re at it, let’s discuss the warnings about lifting this and that. “Oh, you poor delicate flower! You might get hurt!”
Really? So what do I do? Leave my sleeping toddler in a hot car when we pull into the driveway because I can’t carry her in at 37 pounds?
That sounds like a solid plan.
When she throws herself on the ground in a tantrum or just has a moment of toddler fun, I’ll just stand there and say, “Sorry, can’t help you. I’m pregnant, and I can’t lift you!”
I’ll leave grocery bags in the car so food rots and skip housework or moving laundry baskets. I’ll quit my job because apparently, we can’t stand or sit for too long, can’t lift anything heavy, and must avoid sudden movements!
Look, maybe celebrities can “consciously uncouple” from their responsibilities, but those of us living in the real world have to keep going.
How about I just don’t act recklessly? I won’t overexert myself on a regular basis, like cutting down redwoods or painting roofs while balancing on a ladder.
Has the world lost its mind?
I’m pregnant, folks. NOT BROKEN.
Women have been doing this since the dawn of humanity. They worked in fields, built homes, carried loads— and did they ever say, “Sorry, I can’t keep the house up. I’m with child”? Of course not! If that were the case, nothing would ever get done, because they were often “with child.”
Sure, we’ve learned a lot over the years, and yes, better safe than sorry. But at some point, we crossed the line from reasonable caution into full-blown hysteria, and frankly, it’s ridiculous.
Pregnant women are some of the strongest people on this planet.
Stop telling us we’re weak or that we need experts to manage our pregnancy and guide our lives.
I get it, selling “expert opinions” and “helpful advice” can be profitable, but creating a mindset where women believe they need constant supervision? That’s just wrong.
Sure, when I genuinely need help, I’m grateful for medical professionals. If my body or mind falters, I appreciate their expertise. But until then, I’m doing just fine. My body, mind, and intuition are perfectly capable, as they have been since forever.
Stop insisting that I can’t or shouldn’t because, guess what? I birthed a 10-pound baby in my living room.
We give birth— whether naturally or via C-section— and then we get up, nurse them, and keep going.
We push through morning sickness, fatigue, and all the discomfort that comes with pregnancy. We work, we care for our families, and we carry on.
With aching backs and restless nights, we move forward, living our lives and nurturing our children.
But you insist I’m weak and vulnerable, lost and unaware.
Fear not! You’re here to tell me how to be pregnant, give birth, nurture, and raise my child. Thank goodness for your guidance, right?
You’ve tried to convince me that I’m broken.
But let me clarify: I’m pregnant.
And in just five weeks, I will welcome a baby into my life— the perfect one for me.
I know how to give birth, hold, and nurture my baby. My body is designed to cradle her. My heart beats for this child.
Sometimes I might feel unsure about what to do, but by all means, I know better than anyone else.
And while you’ll still be there, chattering away with your endless advice, I’ll smile and focus on my newborn, who already understands.
Hey there, little one, everything you need is right here.
You certainly don’t look broken to me.
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Summary
This article emphasizes the strength and resilience of pregnant women, challenging societal norms and restrictions that label them as fragile or weak. It encourages a balanced approach to pregnancy, advocating for common sense over fear-based rules while celebrating the natural ability of women to nurture and give life.
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