It’s amazing how quickly co-workers, strangers, and even family members forget that a pregnant person is still, well, a person. Curious questions, while understandable, often cross the boundary from pleasantly interested, to judgmental. For example, your parents may be dying to know whether you’ll quit your job after baby, and your neighbor wants to know whether you intend to breast-feed or not. When in doubt, remember that intrusive questions are usually better left unasked.
Here’s a list of the top things you should never ask a pregnant woman. Share with your family, friends, and go ahead, even share with that nosy co-worker.
I know you mean that in a complimentary way, but all I hear is, “Wow, are you sure your baby is OK?” Which leads me to freak out about the size of my baby and start Googling whether or not my baby is OK. And that never ends well.
I don’t care if I blow up like the Goodyear Blimp. Keep it to yourself. I am pregnant. Being pregnant tends to make a girl gain a little bit of weight.
Well, no. By my age, I hope I am smart enough to have figured out the whole birth control thing. Plus, I really don’t want to divulge to you whether this was premeditated or the accidental result of a quickie in the backseat of my boyfriend’s Mustang.
No. But since you asked and didn’t just go for it, I will let you live. You’re welcome.
I am hoping for a baby. That is my only real pony in this pregnancy race. Oh, and maybe a pony. I am hoping for a pony too.
You know, it’s really annoying when people point that out.
Let me just stop you there. I am going through this like I’m the only person who has even been pregnant in the history of the earth. So I don’t want to hear about your negligible weight gain or horrendous hemorrhoids.
Yes, but I don’t want to know if you dated someone with the same name in high school and that they broke your heart or whatever, so let’s just go with “No.”
You really shouldn’t give a pregnant woman advice. I could sit on your face and smother you to death.
*Blank stare followed by me walking away.*
Well, when that leprechaun under the bridge held a rock over my belly and told me there was only one, I believed him. But apparently you have some sort of sixth sense about these things, so I will have him check again.
A puppy. How did you guess!?
Thanks for asking, but I really don’t want to discuss the future state of my nipples with you, weird lady from accounting.
Thanks for setting women back a century by asking that. Now please excuse me while I fetch Mr. his slippers.
This person is dead now.
I know, right? This ball and chain in my belly is about to make an appearance and ruin everything.
No. I plan on being higher than Willie Nelson when I’m bearing down. God put someone on this planet smart enough to invent the epidural and I am surely going to take advantage of that invention while I try to push a watermelon out of something the size of a lemon.
Yes. Based solely on that conservation we had 10 years ago while drunk at a frat party, that is totally true. I am such a liar.
Thanks for sharing. Because it’s not like I’m going to have to go through it anytime soon or anything, or that I constantly wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night fearing that I’m going to poop on the table.
*Insert sounds of crickets here.*