'The Bump story'

“Scary!”

Till a year back, that’s exactly how I would describe the bump of an expectant mother she so proudly flaunts. Be it in shopping malls, offices, restaurants, and even theatres, they pop up, expectant mothers, with their full protruding belly, and scare you! I would get imaginary cramps and feel a tug in the stomach at the sight of one, and would make failed attempts at keeping steadfast eye-to-eye contact with the person concerned. I cannot tell you how guilty I feel now, for each time I felt that way in the past. Till I figured there’s a whole club out there who shares this with me.

Few months back my brother said the idea of seeing me in that avatar is making him reconsider his visit during my pregnancy. I was annoyed at first, but then I reasoned and thought of the many occasions on which I might have said something to that effect so callously, surreptiously vanishing from scenes where a pregnant belly is seen or discussed. That, when I am a woman myself, married, and sure about having kids, no matter how much the thought of the ordeal had bothered me in the past. This one I am talking about is my poor brother, a man who recently tied the knot, has a wife who wouldn’t spare a single detail relating my pregnancy to slap on his face, reasoning, “he has to get used to it.” Ok boss!  No arguments there. But my heart goes out to any such soul who resonates with me on this. I find a personal connection with them. “I have been there, folks.” I want to tell them. It’s alright if you maintain a minimum of 10 feet distance from me when we meet, and refuse to look into my eye and carry on a conversation. Hug? Are you kidding me! It’s totally fine if you gawk at me and wonder at how bloated I look, and my transformation from a human to a water buffalo so complete! I get you, kindred soul. I really do.

In my defense I just have to say that I have had very limited experience of spending time around expecting women. A lack of an elder sister makes it an obvious miss, but cousins, I have plenty of them. But I managed meeting just one, just once, during her entire pregnancy. And forgive me saying this, but the image of a sister bloated up to such proportions, kind of left a certain image in my mind. It would suffice to say that what I witnessed was anything but far from appealing.

When me and my husband were based in Qatar, we saw an alarmingly great number of pregnant women in public places, with kids prancing, running, falling, flipping all around the pregnant mothers, lost in conversations, leaving their Indonesian or Pilipino maids to attend to their kids, and they themselves being monitored by the husband they share, with hawk like attention, when not fiddling with his smart phone. They are a happy lot, can afford to have as many, with a population that doesn’t even make 30 percent of the entire population of the country, they have nothing to worry about. (I don’t know why I am talking about Qatar’s population here. You see I digress.) Anyway, the point I am trying to make is that, sighting pregnant women in Qatar must have somewhat prepared me for it. The fact that they would have layers of clothes worn under their flowing abayas, must have helped too, making the bump appear less obvious, hence not triggering the creeps in me. I was finally flirting with the idea of a child of my own.

Coming to my own story now, the quirky, confused and sensitive one that I am, no matter how much I appreciate my bump with wonder in private, I initially did not like the cursory glances at it by strangers. I would often seek a second opinion on the shirt I am wearing, “Is it making it so obvious?”, I would ask the husband; but if a close one dared to say it’s still not showing ‘enough’, I will take it as a challenge  and prove otherwise. To such behavior, the sane husband’s response would be, “About time you decided what you like to hear.” I could not agree more. To such a curt and practical reaction, all I could do is chuckle, flash a stupid grin and leave it at that.

Now coming to a somewhat unrelated yet an inevitable topic  – ‘social media.’ Such a mighty phrase!  As we live two lives today – the real and the virtual one, I think we all will agree that we are somehow burdening ourselves with the virtual one way more than we think we control it. Especially when it concerns a topic as personal as pregnancy, I found myself negotiating between what and how much is personal and how much can be comfortably shared on these platforms. To my credit, till my seventh month, I resisted posting images of my pregnant belly on Facebook or Instagram. Resisted is probably the wrong word. For once I did not feel the need to ‘announce’ it. Those who need to know have been informed about it. But the rest of the world can wait. Someone mentioned to me the other day about how another couple posts a minimum of four to five pregnant pictures every week! They believe in celebrating their newfound happiness every single day! On social media! Too bad I do not feel any such urge. I wouldn’t however pretend that the thought did not tempt me at all. If privacy relating personal matters is sacrosanct to me, I also do not believe in living in an ivory tower. People I interact with over these spaces on a daily basis, do matter to me. Therefore, it’s bothersome to think what if this behavior is a breach of the unwritten rules of social media that are so revered and solemnly practised by all. Probably I am old school, probably my personality has this duality that still needs settling. Or may be I care for people’s opinion too much to drown them with images that might not necessarily concern anyone, and to the faint hearted ones, even a little unsavory may be. Or make them feel obliged to care about everything I post relating my pregnancy, like I must have felt a few times while doing for others. In my bout of happiness I do not want to choke them with overflowing emotions and sentiments about by unborn baby. And I did not even think of the ‘superstition’ or the ‘bad omen’ part, till someone pointed it out. Hell no! I might sound supremely ancient at times, but I am, at the least, superstitious. So I did want to declare I am expecting, I did want, like all excited first time mothers, to flaunt my pregnant belly, but a part of me was still unresolved. Should I go click click on my phone and share a picture of my bump in a silhouette created while standing against a sunny Buffalo afternoon?  Or should I just share a smart-ass image and ‘break’ my pregnancy news, without quite showing it? But does not posting a picture make me appear like I attach some superstition to the grand revelation? Not sure. While I was fiddling with these thoughts, I came across some very creative revelation ideas. The Internet has no dearth of it. The wackier, the better, probably  a bit too far fetched at times, but when a trend hits the bull’s eye there is no stopping the herd. But then think of this, what if you have placed two safety pins next to each other and placed a small one inside one of the two, and mention which week of pregnancy you are at. I thought that was minimalistic and fun, probably very common, but interesting never-the-less. Till someone pointed out; “What if no one gets it? What if it gets trolled, and a matter that holds such sentimental value to you, takes a nightmarish turn?” Good lord! Imagine the anti-climax! I shuddered at the thought.  So brushing aside all negative thoughts, some more procrastinating happened. And when I reached my wit’s end, and something as banal as this was turning as challenging as deciding a name for the baby, that’s’ it I thought. Enough is enough.  I made up my mind. The brother and the sister-in-law were arriving the following week for my baby shower. And I concluded what better way than simply posting the shower pictures and letting the world know! But no touching and holding of the bump while doing a photo session please. Ok probably the husband is allowed, but only when I am ready. No close-ups of the bump, no awkward poses, no creeping out the kindred souls. Just happy, joyous photos of us please, I can handle that.

If you are still curious to know, the brother and his wife did arrive, he did look at me nervously, no hugging, just greeting and saying I look ‘normal’. I pulled out the most pregnant friendly clothes from my closet to keep things normal for him as much as I could. Either sister-in-law went though this with him several times before they flew down, or he did a pretty good job faking it. But he did seem normal; he did not always maintain the 10 feet distance he would famously do. Opening the car doors, and doors in public places were done more promptly, no speeding while driving was followed dutifully, a 'mommy in car' sticker was ordered, based on his own judgement, without any prompting. The shower turned into a lovely sunny event. I was very pleased with the way things turned out. And the week they stayed with us must have been the most cheerful and happy days for me by far in Buffalo.

Leaving you with some photos from the shower. Hope you enjoy going though the pictures :)

[This post was written for the First Moms Club, hence the photos once again]