PSA – Don’t ask when she’s due unless you’re at her baby shower.
So there was this (two weeks postpartum):
“Oh, what a cute baby!” says the neighbor, looking my newborn who is currently napping in the arms of my well-toned friend. We’re in my front yard. The front yard with two pink ‘Baby Girl’ balloons floating above it. The front yard she’s presumably seen me waddling through for weeks.
After some more ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ and my murmuring ‘thank you’ at her praise of the baby, she turns to me and says, “And I see something going on there!” her index finger wagging at my belly, “When are you due?”
Did I mention the ‘Baby Girl’ balloons and the fact that she’s lived by me for many more than 9 months?
And this week (12 weeks postpartum):
I am signing in at my local exercise class. The kind of class with class managers. Who say hello and more often than not know your name. Your business. The place where again, as I was huge, the instructors called out modifications for me.
And she says,
“Now, when are you due?”
“I’m not due. I’m done.”
A nervous giggle from the class manager beside her. The obligatory, ‘Oh, I’m so sorry!’
And the part where I have to be gracious even as the blood is screaming toward my face.
For many reasons – most worse than just stubborn belly fat – don’t ask a woman about pregnancy. Not where, when, why, how or, God forbid, who. Just let her be her.