“You look like you’re ready to pop!”
“Wow, you’re going to have your hands full!”
“So how dilated are you?”
“No baby yet?!”
“Was it planned?”
“Hope it’s a girl so you can be ‘done.’”
“When are you due again?”
“You’re all belly! Except the water you’re retaining in your face…” (thanks, mom)
“Wow, you look uncomfortable.”
and the pièce de résistance: “I’m pro choice.” Uttered by an unsuspecting and bafflingly British state rep who came politicking to our porch last Saturday afternoon and was outlining his platform for my polite husband.
Hoisting Joey onto one sizeable hip, I waddled out front and calmly informed him he ‘probably had the wrong house’ and then asked him which of my children he thought more deserving of the choice to live, the exterior or interior. He beat a hasty retreat punctuated by nervous English laughter…
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