In which I am not pregnant

I could say, “I’m not pregnant, and I’m not going to have a baby, and this is not a pregnancy announcement, but I have a different, non-pregnancy-type announcement to make, which is not about a baby in any way. Here’s my announce–” and twelve people will cut me off to shriek, “OH MY GOSH, IS THIS A PREGNANCY ANNOUNCEMENT?”

Yes. Sure. It’s a pregnancy announcement, and I’m naming the baby after you. I think Shut Uppa You Face Fisher has a nice ring to it, don’t you?

Read the last of my latest for The Catholic Weekly.

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8 thoughts on “In which I am not pregnant”

  1. Hi there! I know this is kinda off topic but I was wondering which blog platform are you using for this website? I’m getting sick and tired of WordPress because I’ve had issues with hackers and I’m looking at alternatives for another platform. I would be fantastic if you could point me in the direction of a good platform.

  2. The questions and comments will only stop when you look too old to bear children. I had my last baby when I was 43 and many assumed he was my grandchild. Hmph. I’ve never colored my brunette hair, but I don’t remember seeing any gray hair until my late 40s. The last time I had a flat stomach was when I was morning sick with #2 (and even then it wasn’t toned). I’m in my 50s now and buckled down this year to losing my 50 lbs of baby fat. I have lost weight and gone down two sizes so far, but my flabby stomach remains.

  3. My children do not help me out on this since a couple of them still pat my belly as though they are saying hi to a baby, though there isn’t one currently inside. So other people observe this and draw the natural conclusion.
    It was probably a good six months after my twins were born before I convinced their brother, then three, that there wasn’t anyone still in there despite appearances.

  5. I had a nice little roll around my middle even after going below 100 pounds from altitude sickness and amoebas in Quito.

    My sister-in-law’s sister just bought a Zelquist fat freezing machine. If she extends a family discount, I’m there. (It would be rude to say “no!”)

    My kids always knew I was pregnant when I’d pull into 711, hand a kid a ten and tell them to get donuts and bubble gum. They’d say, “Mom!” indignantly.
    They know I prefer my sugar treats fermented and in a glass.

    I thought that maybe my unreasonable and unruly fertility traumatized the more sensitive ones, but the one with the thinnest skin sends me nothing but funny baby memes these days. He misses the little stinkers. And we aren’t the floor show at mass anymore…

  6. I got asked once this summer if I was pregnant when I wasn’t, but to be fair to that person, I actually was wearing a maternity top. I guess that gets filed under, “Even if this looks better with your skirt than any other tops you own, just. don’t. do it.”

  7. I actually am pregnant (at 43) but this is so, so true. Especially the eyeball crawl, lol! One of the perks of being pregnant is that it isn’t so awkward when people think I’m pregnant, even though they’re really just eyeing up belly fat in those early weeks.

  8. I, too, have never had a flat stomach. Not even when I was running every day and subsisting on fruits and vegetables the summer before college. I lost twenty pounds but my stomach? Nay, not flat.

    When I was sixteen I was clerking at our local Woolworth’s (in penance for all sins past, present and future, I have no doubt), and a customer leaned in to me and said, “Congratulations!” I said, “for what?” and she gestured at my abdomen, which was securely behind the hideous bright-red polyester blazer we were obligated to wear. She said, “how far along are you?” and I, mortified, stammered out something to the effect of, “I’m not even MARRIED!”

    She was embarrassed, I wanted to die.

    When my firstborn (he was ten pounds and two feet tall at birth, if you want to know) was two years old I made the classic error of thinking I could tuck my shirt into my pants before we headed to church. As we were making the sign of peace (or maybe heading to communion, I can’t remember which), a very nice lady who ran the local health food store reached over and PATTED my abdomen and said, “Oh, congratulations!”

    I stared at her (my husband was practically laughing out of sheer frendschamen for me) and said, as quietly as I could, “I’m not actually expecting right now.”

    She was so mortified when I went to the store the next week and practically fell over herself apologizing.

    Moral of the story, do as Dave Barry says, even if you see a live baby coming out of a woman, just keep your speculations to yourself.

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