At 34 weeks pregnant, I’m quickly growing out of my late-pregnancy maternity wear.
I waddle when I walk and am out of breath just walking up the stairs. I have to roll out of bed in the morning, and my ankles are starting to swell. I couldn’t feel less pretty. Less human. More BIG.
So when a random woman at the splash park today told me I looked, “Great. Really fantastic.” I could’ve kissed her.
When I was pregnant with my last son four years ago, something similar happened.
I was walking out of Target barely able to stand up straight. My back was killing me. I had to hike up the last remaining pair of pants that fit me. The only pair of shoes I could get into was a stretched out pair of flip-flops. And I felt like bursting into tears for some indeterminate reason.
A woman walked out ahead of me and got into her car. As I was loading my groceries, she literally got out of her car to tell me that I was “the prettiest pregnant woman.”
Whether that was the truth or not didn’t really matter. It was just what I needed to hear at just the right time.
I can only guess that those two women had been pregnant a time or two. They clearly knew what it was like to feel like they were at their all-time worst.
It reminded me that although women can be harsh critics of each other, they can also be wonderfully supportive at the times when we need it most.
It also reminded me that when I see a pregnant woman, I need to remind her how amazing she looks. It might just be the day when she feels like breaking down in tears instead.
Amy Grace is a part-time working mom with two children. You can read her every Friday on momaha.
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