I marvel at the boldness of strangers when it comes to pregnant women. They offer unsolicited opinions, ask rude personal questions and make thoughtless comments, such as:
“You’re only six months pregnant?! You’d better slow down, honey, or you’ll give birth to a 10-pounder!” (Ah, yes, because any comment sweetened by the word “honey” goes down like a tonic prepared by Mary Poppins herself.)
When I’m out with my three kids while pregnant with my fourth, it stuns me when someone asks if all of my children have the same father. Or if my husband and I are done yet. Or if it they were all planned.
But the worst part about this is my inability to cope with these people who feel they have a right to comment on my very being. A good, sharp retort escapes me in the moment, and I can’t seem to do anything but smile politely and mumble a response to whatever rude comment they’ve made while I herd my kids (and myself) out the door. And then I spend the rest of the day coming up with brilliant responses, most of which will probably never pass my lips.
Submitted by Jen Magnuson