It is just about as uncomfortable as it gets. "When are you due?" "Uh, I'm NOT Pregnant!" It doesn't matter if you are on the giving or the receiving end of that conversation. Both parties suddenly want to bolt away from each other because they remembered that their sock drawer needed organizing or their spices needed to be alphabetized.
If the comment was made to you, you feel self-conscious. If you made the mistake of saying it to someone, you feel awful and wonder why you didn't know better.
The closest experience that I had was at the hospital as I was leaving with my newborn. I reference my article, "No, I'm Not Having Twins!" "While pointing at my stomach, a man asked me, "You mean THAT is leftover from THIS ONE??" Yeah, that was not a day that is high on my self-esteem list.
With my first pregnancy, I had just the opposite. There were employees in the building that I worked in that waited until I was nearly 8 months pregnant before saying anything to me about carrying a baby. I guess they were just being safe. I saw them everyday walking up the stairs and riding in the elevator. But still, not one word. Their eyes carefully grazed over my growing belly before meeting my face with a smile and a pleasant "hello."
Once a woman has a baby, her body shape can change. Oh, I know plenty of women that still have fantastic figures but they admit to me that getting it back was not easy. It is hard to know how to dress when you are stuck between wearing maternity clothes and pre-pregnancy outfits. It is also a royal day of celebration when you discover that your "big clothes" are hanging on you. In a beam of excitement, you race to the mall to find new things to fit your slowing shrinking shape.
The disappointment starts to build as you find that all the pants seem to be "low rise." (This is fabulous for the extra bulge around your middle that you are trying to disguise.) It is not any easier with the shirts that all seem to be made for either 14 year old girls or tall, thin models. I might as well tell the sales employee, "Bring me everything you have in black and with an empire waist." Then my problem is that everything in my closet looks the same.
So after discarding all the clothes that I've worn only a few times before realizing that I actually hate the way they look on me, I am down to a few basic staple items. I look to the reflection in the mirror and miss my "before-kids body." A frustrated sigh escapes from my throat but is soon replaced with a sweet voice coming from behind me.
As both a Mother and a child look into the same mirror, we see different things. "Mommy, you look pretty." And that was all I really needed to hear.