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Treading on Eggshells - A Mummy Blog

Treading on Eggshells - A Mummy Blog
Being pregnant is a bit of a burden.

Not just in the physically cumbersome sense but also in the political correctness sense - what to say and what not to say and to whom and when and how. Friends who are unable to have children want to be supportive but I don't want to be insensitive; friends who are pregnant want insight but not too much, Strangers, on the other hand, are clearly oblivious to the eggshell issue. They make no attempt at censorship between thought and word and, having said too much and caused offence, walk away apparently oblivious to the sound of crunchy shell they leave behind. I can only imagine that the flow of unrequested words from those encountered by chance will increase 'post bump' - after all with twins the temptation for strangers to comment will, well, double.

The Post Office is prime space for bump related stranger-danger. Queues, old women, nowhere to hide,. Earlier this week I felt like I had inadvertently walked into an Alan Bennett play. A woman of indistinguishable age and nationality thanks to her dubious choice of face powder felt the urge to inform me I was 'all baby'. Why I felt compelled to correct her and say 'babies' I don't know but needless to say by the time I got the front of the queue I knew that her daughter found carrying twins 'too much dear, just too much. I mean it's not really natural is it? She was BEGGING the Dr to cut her open by the end.' Why? Why did I need to know that?!

Getting Plastered

Everlasting Castings Belly Casting Kit
I cheered myself up by getting plastered. Not in the irresponsible drink-related sense - although I was tempted given Powder Face's gloomy glimpse into the not too distant future - but rather by making an Everlasting Castings belly plaster cast of my bump. It may well make it difficult to move and stand and sit and sleep but I am still kind of fond of it and creating a cast seemed a sensible way of commemorating it. No doubt it will soon be hard to remember what life was like avec bump - and even if we choose not to hang it on the wall permanently we could always use it as a fruit bowl, or a boat,.

Maybe I should carry the cast with me to ensure I don't forget about my pregnant state. How could I possibly forget? You might well ask but at a bus stop a few days ago I was left wondering if I am destined to be one of those Mothers who forgets about her offspring in the early 'adjusting' days, the ones where you bravely face the world for the first time with dependants only to forget about them half way round the Supermarket. A couple asked when it was due and I replied 'in a couple of minutes'. They looked more than a little taken a back at which point I realised they had asked when I was due, not the bus! For a fleeting moment I had completely forgotten than I was pregnant. Something I was not permitted to do later in the week when I man in a shop said 'blimey, not seen anyone as pregnant as you out and about for a long time'. See, strangers and egg shells.

Katy Hymas
February 2010

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