I am currently pregnant. I hate being pregnant. I know that is a terrible thing to say out loud and in public, given the many women who would love to be pregnant and would rejoice in every moment of pregnancy. I wish I could go away for 9 months and return with a baby in my arms, not have to live in the reality that is life while nearly every thought, or if you already have other children like I do, every other thought is consumed with what-ifs about the being growing inside my womb. It's very egocentric.

Worse than the entire pregnancy is that transitional phase where you know you are pregnant, yet you do not look pregnant to the layperson's eyes, unless that person is hyper aware and notices that your breasts are fuller, your nipples are constantly at attention, your belly is no longer flat, but slightly bowed out. But you are not yet ready for maternity clothes. You are not yet excused from the hypercritical eyes of other women who can look you up and down and determine based on the ratio of your breasts to your belly that you are getting sort of plump.

Ah, in about eight more weeks, I will be excused from such critical looks. People will look at me and instantly know that I am carrying another life inside me. They will forgive me if I reach for that second cookie. They will understand when I abstain from drinking a fine red wine. They will smile a little smile when I start bumping into everything.

Until then, I will be as self critical as those others who look at me and wonder how I can let myself go. Such is the society that we have created.