A Public Pregnancy

I can tell something is up. Teachers just know. I pause mid-lecture and pivot on very pregnant feet, eyebrows raised quizzically. It's a Mom look from a not-yet mom.

"Can I ask what's going on over here?" Nervous twitches in chairs, the trademark-teenage eye shift. A whole row of desks leaves one boy out to dry. He smiles sheepishly.

"No offense, Mrs. P, but you're huge. I mean, you're weren't before but now...well, you're huge."

Everybody in the room freezes. I can almost hear the unuttered incredulous gasp - Did he really just say that? - bounce off the walls. The looks on their faces are hysterical. They think I'm going to kill him. Instead, I burst out laughing.

"Yes, Arnold. I'm huge. You better hope this baby doesn't want to join you in class." A wave of relieved chuckles and we are back to the Civil Rights movement. Just them, me and my perky protruding belly.

Being pregnant is a bit awkward. There's the beautiful reality that you are bringing life into the world but then there's that whole odd physical proof of your private life. (My dad and brother, though over the moon about the idea of a granddaughter and niece, had a hard time knowing exactly what do with me). Add the setting of a high school, a big town that is socially small and hundreds of curious eyes and you get a very public pregnancy.

When I was expecting, the world was expecting. Every time a student turned around, he ran into another pregnant teacher. Non-pregnant women jokingly avoided the water in the drinking fountains and kids lived a "health-class-on-steroids" existence as they walked the hallways. Babies were in the air.

There were wonderful things about a public pregnancy. Students were attentive and respectful and a bit more ready to work on a pretty May afternoon than they normally would. I received beautiful gifts - a sweetly crocheted blanket from a senior girl, a basket full of personalized onesies, bibs and toys from the cross country team, full outfits from some of my male students (who insisted that no, their moms did not buy them), a surprise baby shower from the water polo team. Students and parents openly shared their excitement and well wishes and I had earnest question and answer sessions with curious kids. (My water polo girls couldn't ask enough! This whole having a baby thing rocked their world). One of my fondest memories is of our players putting their hands on my stomach during the final timeout of our state finals game because they wanted to include Baby P in the team cheer. Yes, there were some wonderful things about a public pregnancy.

And then there were the hard elements. Everyone has an opinion about your weight gain. People want to know the plans for maternity leave. Will you nurse? Or bottlefeed? Will you stay home or return to work? Where are you registered? You're having how many showers? What will you do for daycare? And how is the nursery decorated? Are you going to find out if it's a boy or a girl? The questions were always well-intended and my husband and I were blessed to have the support of a truly good community around us. But I couldn't help but sometimes feel the weight of the opinions behind each question and response. I was learning to tip-toe through the minefield of public perceptions about motherhood.

Even now, almost six months post-delivery, I feel a bit exposed. I wonder about my weight: shouldn't I be further along? People are going to wonder what I did with my time... I obsess about interactions with others: do I seem like me? Am I distracted? Am I consumed with being a mom? Do they think I'm natural? Or do I seem harried? Am I being a good friend?

I worry about what people think when they see my daughter. Do I have her dressed correctly? How do I keep her nose clean when she has a cold? Is she cute, or are they being nice? I have a tiny freakout when people think she's a boy (her dad hates bows, but maybe I should put one in her hair just to make her gender clear??) or ask about a milestone she hasn't reached yet. (Once, someone asked me if she had rolled over yet. We actually went home later that day and practiced...)

I worry about things I never would have thought twice about before, like the impression I'm sending if I post too many pictures on Facebook or visit too often at school. I find myself apologizing - a lot. I'm sorry, I know I only have 1 child. I don't know how moms of more do it! I'm sorry, I know it's wonderful that I can be home. I'll be back to work soon! I'm sorry, she's only crying because she needs a nap. It's not you at all! I'm sorry, I know I should have gotten back to you sooner. I just don't know where time goes! I've found the emotional uncertainty and sensitivity of new motherhood surprising and sometimes unnerving.

Time helps. Each day and each new accomplishment brings some confidence. And our daughter is such fun. She thinks that I am the greatest thing in the universe. When my mere presence can warrant a whole-face smile and full-body flurry of arms and legs, wow. Does great things for the ego - and the heart.

Soon, I'll be back to school and Arnold and his friends will encounter a smaller version of Mrs. P in the hallways. I won't have the belly but I will be able to, when necessary, flash the Mom look of a bonafide mom.

Teachers just sometimes have to when something is up.