Hey there, world. Take note: I am not unwell, impaired, or broken. I am expecting a child.
I am not weak, helpless, or overly reliant on others. I am pregnant.
I am not incompetent or incapable. I AM PREGNANT.
I’m not a fragile flower or a delicate princess. I’m just an ordinary person engaging in a process as ancient and powerful as humanity itself. Evidence of that is all around us.
This journey is natural and fitting for my body, much like breathing, walking, or living. But somehow, you treat me like I’m a fragile vessel that needs constant protection.
And let’s talk about the rules you impose on me.
No lunch meat—seriously, no turkey, salami, or ham. Make sure that steak isn’t rare! Eggs need to be cooked thoroughly, and cookie dough is a no-go! Unpasteurized anything? Not allowed. Watch out for fish—raw is off the table. And those stinky cheeses, like Brie and feta? Forget it! Listeria! E-coli!
No coffee. No wine. Not a drop! Better safe than sorry, right? Okay, maybe one cup of coffee, but two? Now that’s pushing it.
Why must we be so extreme? Honestly, if I have two or three cups of coffee on a tough day, it’s not going to be the end of the world for me or my baby. And as a recovering alcoholic, I might not count a glass of wine, but the idea of it is still ridiculous.
Instead of these over-the-top, irrational rules like “no lunch meat for 10 months,” how about we just eat mindfully? Perhaps we could avoid questionable sources or food left out too long. You know, just be reasonable.
And then there are the ‘don’t lift this, don’t push that’ warnings. Oh, come on!
Don’t lift over 25 pounds? Really? So, I guess I should just leave my sleeping toddler in the car when we pull into the driveway since I can’t carry her inside at 37 pounds. That’s a great plan!
When she inevitably has a tantrum and throws herself on the ground, I’ll just shrug at the passing cars and say, “Sorry, I can’t help. I’m pregnant! I’m fragile!”
I’ll leave groceries in the car to spoil and not do any housework. I should quit my job too, since we can’t stand too long or sit too long or lift heavy things.
Look, maybe some people can afford to “consciously uncouple” from their responsibilities, but for the rest of us, life goes on.
How about I just avoid being reckless? Maybe skip the heavy lifting and extreme activities?
Has the world lost its mind?
I’m pregnant, not broken. Women have been doing this since the dawn of humanity. They’ve worked in fields, built homes, and carried heavy loads. In the past, women didn’t say, “Sorry, I can’t do that; I’m expecting.” They just got on with it!
Sure, we’ve learned a lot, but at some point, we crossed the line from reasonable caution into hysteria, and it’s downright absurd.
Pregnant women are some of the strongest beings on the planet. Stop telling us we’re weak and require constant supervision and guidance.
I appreciate medical expertise when it’s truly needed, but for now, I’m doing just fine. My body knows what to do, and I trust it.
I’ve given birth before—my last baby was 10 pounds, born right in my living room. We know how to nurture, care for, and thrive.
Through morning sickness, fatigue, and all the challenges, we carry on.
But you say I’m weak, lost, and broken. Fortunately for me, I have you to tell me how to be pregnant, give birth, and raise my child.
You’ve tried to break me, but I am not broken.
I am pregnant, and in just a few weeks, I’ll welcome a new life into the world—one who understands me deeply.
I know how to nurture this baby, and my body is perfectly designed for this.
Yet, you’ll still be there, chattering away, telling me what to do.
I’ll smile and turn my attention to my newborn, who knows me well.
Hey there, little one—everything you need is right here. You don’t look broken to me.