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My Eyes Are Up Here

31 October 2012

We went to church with my parents last Sunday ’cause we were neither of us scheduled to volunteer for anything at our church. (‘Cause my momma didn’ raise no fool, and I made sure we had the Sunday after a day-and-a-half youth conference off.)

My mom’s chatty and very excited to finally be a Nana, and I love that. I knew we would be introduced to people who have heard probably more than they care to about us. I knew I would be answering the same questions about how far along I am and if we know the gender and if we have a name picked out, and I was prepared for that. I was prepared to be told I’m, “so small,” and that the baby is going to be, “tiny.”

What I was not prepared for was the women who seemed to think that I, myself, was in my belly. 

I get that the bump, especially at seven and a half months, is public domain, and I’m actually okay with that. I get that mom tends to disappear behind baby, when the baby actually appears, because family and friends are so excited and he’s so adorable, and I’m anticipating that. (Heaven knows I’ve been guilty of it myself, and – as this is probably going to be the cutest baby anyone has ever seen – I don’t think I can really blame anyone.)

But I don’t know this women.

And she doesn’t know me.

We’ve never met and she actually ignores my outstretched hand and my smiling “Hello” to pat my belly, lean in (which is awkward in that it’s completely unnecessary) and say, “This is the one can’t wait to meet.”

You can’t wait to eat?! What?!

Oh no, never mind. That weird cackle must have been in my head too.

And yet wait you shall.

Probably forever.

I don’t think she ever actually made eye contact. With me.

I almost (accidentally) wiped the back of my hand across her face (quickly and possibly with some oomph) as I withdrew it, unsatisfied, but I didn’t. I made some overly gracious statement about how we all are, and smiled until she was done.

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