Aubrey Hirsch’s previous Loco Parentis columns for The Butter can be found here.
Look, it’s not rocket science. Pregnant people just want to be treated like people. But too often, I’ve found that my distended belly somehow signifies open season on body commentary and intrusive questions from strangers. With close friends and family members, I don’t mind talking about my pregnancy. But sometimes I just want to get in and out of the drug store without having to perform the expectant mother role for a bunch of excited strangers.
Here’s this grumpy pregnant lady’s guide to how not to talk to a pregnant person:
DON’T:
- tell her she’s pregnant like it’s breaking news. I assure you, if you can tell, she can tell.
- comment on her size. Some women enjoy their changing figures; others don’t. Some women get nervous that they’re gaining too much or too little weight or maybe they’re gaining the right amount, but at the wrong time or in the wrong places. Even if you think you’re giving a pregnant woman a compliment, you might be triggering a hidden anxiety. This woman is building a baby with her body. That is amazing. She doesn’t need to know whether or not you approve of her new shape.
- ask when she’s due, what she’s having, if she’s picked out any names. She’s already said “March,” “girl,” and “Emily” so many times her jaw is sore. And why? So the lady behind her in the grocery line can update her “pregnant strangers” spreadsheet?
- ask if this is her first pregnancy. She might say, “Yes.” She might say, “No.” She might say, “I have a four-year-old at home.” These are the easy answers. But what if the answers aren’t easy? She might not want to say, “I’ve had three miscarriages.” Or, “My first child died.” Or, “I had an abortion three years ago.” She might not want to lie. But she might not want to tell the truth either, especially if she doesn’t know you well.
- share a horror story. This should go without saying but no pregnant woman wants to hear that you threw up three times a day, every day for the entirety of your pregnancy. Or that your cousin was in labor for 71 hours and the epidural didn’t even work. Save those fun anecdotes for after the baby’s first birthday.
DO:
- think before you speak. Just because you see a pregnant person doesn’t mean you have to say anything at all. You probably don’t ask every blond person you see what it’s like to be blond, or how long they’ve had that hair color, or whether or not it’s real. Before you interrogate her about her pregnancy, ask yourself why you want to know, and whether satisfying your curiosity is worth interrupting this woman’s day.
- connect by giving, instead of demanding. If you’re looking to engage a pregnant woman in conversation because you just had a baby, or your sister is pregnant, or you and your partner are trying to conceive and you’re genuinely looking for a point of connection, why not open by offering that personal detail about yourself, instead of demanding information from her? Instead of asking “Is it a boy or a girl?” say, “I just had a baby girl in January.” Let her decide whether she wants to share anything with you.
- remember her nouns, not just her adjectives. She’s not just “pregnant.” She’s still a woman, a person, a professional, a karaoke star, a Game of Thrones fan. Gestating women don’t cease to be themselves the moment they conceive. Start a conversation with her the same way you would start one with a non-gestating person. Make her feel like her most important organ is still her brain, not her uterus.
Tags: aubrey hirsch, loco parentis, pregnancy, the butter
Say, “congratulations, you look great!” End the conversation.
“You look great” is the ONLY acceptable thing to say about a pregnant woman’s appearance, ever.
Mu husband and I are trying to have a baby. Rude comments by strangers in public before and after appearance of the child is my BIGGEST FEAR. I am convinced I’ll be on the news one day: “Pregnant Woman Slays Four.” Because someone patted my belly and I happened to be holding a chainsaw or something.
Why leave the chainsaw carrying to chance? Just keep one with you at all times for just such a purpose.
I spent my whole pregnancy hoping that a stranger would touch my belly, so I could touch theirs, but it never happened. Maybe because it was largely winter, and I was often wearing a coat? I live in the south, where people are all up in each others’ business all the time, but I was never really bothered…
But no harm in carrying a small chainsaw, just in case.
I never had much trouble either, other than a few people who made with the horror stories (which, seriously, whyy??). I’ve never been bothered about breastfeeding in public, either, to my somewhat disappointment. I have comebacks ready and a killer death glare! BRING IT.
Please share comebacks!
I resolved that should anyone touch my belly I would throw my head back and screeeeeeeeam like a maniac. No one even tried. I think the excitement of anticipating the scream gave off a “vibe.” I don’t believe in “vibes,” but I have no other explanation for not having been touched by anyone through 2 pregnancies in two different ends of the US.
“ask yourself why you want to know, and whether satisfying your curiosity is worth interrupting this (person’s) day.”
This is the best advice for soooo many contexts, including (but not exclusive to) pregnancy. 🙂 Mindfulness ftw!
“You don’t look old enough to be having a baby!”
. . . my distended belly somehow signifies open season on body commentary and intrusive questions from strangers.
Also, it gives strangers license to rub your belly for good luck.
I so wish I could bottle whatever it was that kept people from touching my pregnant belly without permission and give it away. Because only two people did over the entirety of both pregnancies, and I know how lucky I was.
Starting in about month six, I would have paid a cover charge to get into a grocery store where NO ONE WOULD TALK TO ME. The sheer number of people who seemed to think “you’re having a boy!”* would be boggling news exceeded my wildest fears.
The most egregious moment was when a woman slowed down to yell at me from her car that I was “so cute.” Had it been a man, it would have been kind of threatening. Can we all just agree, as a species, to a “no yelling body commentary from cars” rule?
*They could tell by the way I was carrying, allegedly.
Hah. I got that too, to the point where literally my first thought, when my oldest was born and I heard “it’s a girl,” was, “Everyone was wrong.”
Poppycock!
The real method is that if the pregnant mother is radiant and beautiful, it’s a boy, but if she’s haggard and exhausted, it’s a girl. Because the baby girl is stealing all the beauty from the mother.
HOW ABOUT YOU SAY NOTHING.
This is a highly personal topic for me, as I have never been pregnant, but people have been assuming/asking if I am pregnant for the last 6 years. On average I get a pregnancy comment about 2 times a month, though it has gone down a bit now that I no longer work in customer service. I am so sick of “congratulations!” “when are you due?” and flat out “are you pregnant?” I have never had anyone apologize for their comments, though there are plenty of very uncomfortable silences I gaze at them with dead eyes after saying flatly, “I’m not pregnant”. (I have however had MULTIPLE men say “Oh. But you must get that all the time.” HOW. HOW ARE YOU MAKING THAT BETTER.)
SO. HOW ABOUT WE JUST DO NOT COMMENT ON THIS EVER. Assuming is never, ever a good idea. Even if they are pregnant, maybe they don’t want to talk about it. Unless you know them, leave it alone. Me? I am fat. I get it. After the first 14 times I got asked, I finally stopped crying over it. But it would still be really nice if people would just fuck off.
(So so sorry if I was rude, this is obviously a sore spot for me. No offense meant at all to Aubrey, who wrote a very excellent post! My anger is entirely directed at the jerks who have made me feel bad about myself by assuming I’m pregnant.)
PREACH IT
I recently had a brief friendly conversation initiated by the pregnant stranger I was sharing an elevator with, where she complimented my dress and told me how hard a time she’d had finding cute maternity dresses and asked where I got my dress. And because it took me a second to put two and two together and because it was a short elevator ride, she was already getting off the elevator by the time I realized she’d assumed I was pregnant too. I figured it was probably it poor etiquette to shout out an office elevator, “I’m not pregnant, ma’am, just fat, I’m sorry to have confused you!”
But it made me glad that I don’t work retail anymore, thus cutting far down on my interaction with strangers, thus making elevator interludes like that a lot rarer than they probably could be.
Hear, hear. And I don’t know if it makes you feel better, but I hope it might: I haven gotten that too, and at a pretty wide range of weights, including when I was a size 4, because it was a time when I had poor posture and stuck my tummy out when I was too tired to stand up properly in an airport; in fact somebody in an airport actually tried to deny serving me coffee once because they were so certain I must be pregnant. It happens to many of us and sometimes to women of all sizes; it’s not even a barometer of how big you do or don’t look, it’s just people; you aren’t alone.
I was in a fancy restaurant in the Bellagio in Vegas once, and when I came out of the bathroom, some lady was like, “Did you just have a baby?” and I was like, “*sideeye* nope.”
And then she was like, “Oh! Are you pregnant?” and I was like, “*super sideeye* nope, just fat!”
AND THEN she was like, “Oh I’m so embarrassed, maybe you just had too much to eat at dinner”
Like. I mean.
People are the worst.
Whatever happened to not assuming people are pregnant? I don’t comment on someone’s pregnancy unless they specifically tell me that they’re pregnant. Partially because my initial reaction is always, “Oh. *insert uncomfortably long silence. Congratulations?”
A pretty safe default reaction, if you can train yourself into is, is “Best wishes,” as that doesn’t presuppose anything about the pregnant person’s feelings about everything.
I once bought a pregnancy test and the guy at the counter told me “good luck”, which I thought was entirely appropriate and good for all occasions!
Yes, that covers many contingencies, though I’d still prefer no comment at all!
I’m going to need a mighty big pillow to embroider all this onto.
Don’t:
1) Ask “What is it/what are you having?” You almost certainly mean, “have you been told the fetus’s sex,” so say that–if you must say it at all, which you probably don’t.
2) Ask, “Are you excited?” Because the answer might be _no_, that’s why, and is that a conversation you really want to have?
3) Ask, “how are you feeling?” And then, when you get a non-pregnancy answer, say, “I meant, how is the pregnancy going.” Because the person you are talking to is more than their pregnancy. (Yes, someone said this to me.)
4) Say, “gosh, you look like you’ve dropped!” or something else that will induce anxiety in the pregnant person about whether they are going to go into labor early.
5) Assume that all pregnant people are women.
“Do you know what you’re having?” “Um. A…baby? I hope?”
“I’m not sure, but I’m hoping for a kitten!”
I should really stop using email replies, as they have less than 50% success rate.
I used to say “um, a _baby_?” to people I knew somewhat, in an only-half-joking kind of way that I hoped might gently get the message across. No idea if it worked, though.
I will never understand the horror story thing, and I see it all the time!
Don’t police their bodies, telling what to eat and drink and what not to, based on their pregnancies.
Don’t lecture them on whether they should or shouldn’t circumcise the baby if it’s a boy.
Don’t touch their bellies.
Pregnant ladies, don’t grab someone’s hand and put it on your belly. (That one has happened to me, and seriously, ick.)
The only time I figure it’s okay to ask someone if she’s pregnant is if she’s going to labor right in front of me and I need to determine what sort of medical assistance she might need. Otherwise I keep my dang mouth shut until she decides to bring up the topic herself.
On the horror story thing, I had a few people tell me absolutely harrowing stories about their miscarriages while I was pregnant (and unbeknownst to them genetically inclined to miscarry myself). I really never figured out a good way to deal with it because they were obviously reliving some serious trauma in my general direction, but that was far worse than any of the small talk for me.
I was recently at a work lunch when an older male colleague of sorts who I had literally just met that morning began telling me about my pregnancy – what I should eat (including telling me that I should try some of a food that I find repugnant because it will “help keep the baby from being picky”), my “baby’s” stage of development, what childbirth is like (note: I have a child and recall childbirth quite vividly). None of it particularly accurate, and definitely none of it solicited.
I nominate all of that for the “Don’t” column.
I sincerely hope that you were, in fact, pregnant (if your pregnancy is a wanted one, anyway!) … It shouldn’t surprise me that older male colleagues were commenting on things they have absolutely no first-hand knowledge of, but all these stories continue to horrify me.
My fetus was extremely compliant and just caused me to read as stout/husky instead of pregnant for about the first 6-7 months, and then could still be disguised as non-specific size gain if I wore an apron. (I worked in a salon and in a cafe, so this was not an unreasonable style choice.) Around month 8, it was July, and I couldn’t stand even an apron’s-worth of extra fabric on my body, and thus began the era of customers flipping their shit that I was pregnant.
So I actually enjoyed each and every aspect of intrusiveness into my pregnancies. So many crazy and way-too-personal comments. They all bled together as some sort of vast psychological study on How Private Acts are Made Public.
My favorite encounter was with a man who was possibly suffering from a mental illness, definitely homeless, and for sure extremely joyful on a day that I was feeling extremely anxious and fearful about the upcoming life changes/possible catastrophes.
He yelled at me that I was having a girl (he guessed right) and could he touch my belly. Something about him and the moment brought a feeling of cosmic compassion. I said yes. He did and teared up. I asked him if he had any baby names for me (again-Against The Rules of Engagement) and he said Alice for his grandmother. That was the middle name I’d already picked out. You never know. It’s one of my favorite memories of pregnancy.
Years ago, a dude making my sandwich at Subway asked me when I was due (I was not pregnant but had enough of a tummy…about which I FEEL NO SHAME…to seem pregnant?) and I said "I'm not pregnant; I'm just fat." And then I asked for extra cheese on my sandwich. I mean, look, I'm sure he was a nice kid and all but asking someone when she is due is not part of the standard sandwich assembly Q&A.
Hear, hear. And I don't know if it makes you feel better, but I hope it might: I haven gotten that too, and at a pretty wide range of weights, including when I was a size 4, because it was a time when I had poor posture and stuck my tummy out when I was too tired to stand up properly in an airport; in fact somebody in an airport actually tried to deny serving me coffee once because they were so certain I must be pregnant. It happens to many of us and sometimes to women of all sizes; it's not even a barometer of how big you do or don't look, it's just people; you aren't alone.
Could we also remember that people who can get pregnant and women are not concentric circles, but rather a standard overlapping diagram? In the unlikely event I were to use my uterus, I’d probs answer to “dad”.
I was so confused by the language in this article? Every six times it used ‘people’ instead of ‘women’, like inclusiveness (and realism) is some sort of language seasoning. Dear authors of the world: diversity doesn’t work with a sprinkling method.
I am confused though by one thing- why is it so awful to be mistaken for pregnant? Are pregnant bodies so gross that it's that much of an insult? Really, genuinely perplexed by this. Like, fat bodies are nice, pregnant bodies are nice, fat AND pregnant bodies are nice….soooo?
I don’t know, all this stuff didn’t bother me that much when I was pregnant. Maybe that’s because I live in NYC, where the average interaction with strangers ranges from silent resentment of their music/odor/foul language/manspreading to vocal disagreements about personal space. It wasn’t so bad to have a stranger offer me a seat or smile and say “Congratulations!” And if I did not want to answer their questions, it was a good opportunity to practice the art of circumlocution.
That being said, it is really rude to assume people are pregnant.
Its really nice post and this article tell a pregnant women how to secure her self when he was pregnant first time and full of affair thanks for share it Nyla Ward .