I was sporting one of my favorite dresses that day, an A-line number with pleats from ModCloth. The kids and I were at church, waiting for the priest while they frolicked around the garden—three little whirlwinds. I stood there, arms at my sides, when you, the man with a voice like gravel, struck up a conversation.
“All boys, huh?” you remarked.
“Yep,” I replied. “All boys.”
“And one on the way, it looks like,” you said, grinning.
I froze. “No,” I managed to say stiffly. “I am not pregnant.”
“Oh, hit me,” you continued, as if you hadn’t just dropped a bombshell. But everything had changed. I am not pregnant. I’m definitely not pregnant. Sure, I know that Prozac has added a few pounds, but I didn’t think my belly was that pronounced. I was even wearing Spanx!
Seriously, dude? Don’t you know the golden rule? Unless you’re 1) the father of the baby or 2) witnessing the baby’s grand entrance, never assume a woman is pregnant. I get it; I’m at a Catholic church on an average weekday with three little ones who are practically stair-stepped in age. It seems logical to think I might be expecting again. But let’s be real—stereotypes are just that, and making assumptions just makes an ass out of you.
What’s worse is that you felt entitled to judge me based on your observations of my body. Do you have any idea how I feel about the extra pounds I’ve gained from medication? Not great, let me tell you. I work hard to embrace body positivity and tell myself I look fabulous at any size. That’s why I wear cute dresses all the time! When you mistook me for pregnant, it felt like a punch to the gut, as if you were saying I’m too heavy to be a regular woman. I wrestle with this issue every day, and having a stranger reinforce those feelings is just cruel. I shed tears over that.
You have no right to scrutinize my body.
There’s another layer to your assumption. You thought I was pregnant, and honestly, I wish I were. I would do just about anything to be able to get pregnant again. But pregnancy makes me sick with hyperemesis gravidarum—it’s brutal. I was hospitalized last time, dealing with diabetes and low iron levels that required infusions. The first three months of my last pregnancy were spent in bed, and it’s been tougher each time. There’s no way I could manage three kids and a pregnancy at the same time. My youngest son is my last biological baby, and that thought breaks my heart. When you mistook me for pregnant, you stirred up all those feelings. I think about how he’s the last, how there won’t be another biological baby. I cried about that, too.
You have no right to make assumptions about my fertility.
I managed to wait until my husband came home to share the story. It took a lot of effort, but I told him about the encounter. I even changed out of that dress the moment I got home and put it back on to show him. “Oh, you don’t look pregnant,” he said. “That dress just has a front pleat. It makes what’s under it look larger.”
My friends say I’m beautiful. They also say you’re an idiot for making that comment, that I look great, and that you had no right to say what you did. They tell me I look wonderful. My husband agrees; he insists I don’t look pregnant at all. Your words may have planted seeds of doubt in my mind, but my loved ones are here to remind me of the truth. You’ve tried to suggest there’s something wrong with my body.
But there isn’t. I look fabulous. So what if I’ve gained some curves? I often admire curvy women and think how beautiful they are. The only thing wrong with my body? An idiot was looking at it, an idiot who doesn’t understand that he can’t make assumptions about someone else. You and your words can take a hike. I look amazing, no matter my size.
I refuse to let your words define my body image. I won’t give you that power. It’s mine, and I’m taking it back. And guess what? I’m still going to wear that dress.
If you’re interested in learning more about home insemination, check out this post on intracervicalinsemination.com. For more insights on fertility, visit medicalnewstoday.com. And if you’re considering your own journey into parenthood, Make a Mom is a great resource.
Summary
The author reflects on an uncomfortable encounter with a stranger who mistakenly assumed she was pregnant. This assumption triggers deep emotions about body image, fertility, and motherhood. Despite the hurtful comment, the author reclaims her self-worth and resolves to embrace her body, while also sharing resources related to home insemination and fertility.