Lesson in Overcoming Insecurity
My cousin’s little boy asked me if I was going to have a baby. There’s no way to beat around that bush. I figured it would happen eventually. I’m overweight. But I don’t think I carry that weight like I am pregnant. But it didn’t hit me like I always thought it would. I imagined that it would leave me devastated and hating my body.
My mom and I were standing outside my aunt and uncle’s house, saying goodbye to my six-year-old cousin. He hugged my mom and then he hugged me. And then he asked that dreaded question. “Are you going to have a baby?”
I felt a chuckle rise out of my throat. My mom was appalled. She jumped to my defense, “No!”
I just laughed and said, “Nope, I’m not married yet, kiddo. I’m not ready to have a baby.”
He looked sad.
You see, he didn’t ask to be mean. He didn’t ask because he thought/thinks I’m fat. He asked because he’s the oldest of three brothers. He’s seen his mommy pregnant twice now. And every time she’s been expecting, he’s been excited about it.
There’s a weird stigma with that question. We say things like, “It’s just not something you ask someone,” or “I can’t believe they asked you that!” We teach our kids to not ask that question because it’s awkward and rude. And it is awkward, but I don’t think it’s inherently rude. And it’s only as awkward as you make it.
I think we just need to stop being so offended by everything.
Since when was being pregnant a bad thing? I’ve never known a pregnant woman to look ugly. I’ve never looked at a prego lady and thought, “Gross!” Have you? If you have, shame on you.
Pregnancy is beautiful.
Honestly, I took his question as more of a compliment. He hugged me and thought, “Maybe she’ll be a mommy.” And when he found out I wasn’t, he was bummed. That should tell you that it wasn’t a malicious question—and honestly I don’t think it ever is asked with spite.
Here I am, writing about how we shouldn’t be offended by questions like this, and yet I debated writing this post. The insecurity in me said I didn’t have to write about it. I could just file it away as a weird memory and not share it with anyone. But you know what? I’m not the first woman this has happened to. And I won’t be the last. And I think that if we change our thinking, we don’t have to be devastated by it. It’s not devastating. Or it shouldn’t be. So I’m sharing this story.
