Pregnant Belly Kryptonite

I mentioned sometime back about moving my desk location at work, thus putting me closer to the young woman who is pregnant. It hasn’t been too terrible thus far, but now that the baby is moving around more, a fellow co-worker has been trying to feel him kick. This fellow co-worker is a friend of mine and we talked about how I dreaded moving next to the pregnant co-worker. My friend, who suffered a second trimester miscarriage roughly 3 years ago, has no qualms with touching the pregnant woman’s protruding belly. I simply cannot.

 

When my college roommate was expecting and I drove with another college friend all the way to Connecticut for her baby shower just as I was beginning my journey into trying to start a family, I was asked to rub her belly. One of her eager and well-meaning friends tried placing my hand on her abdomen and I nearly fought like a bear in a bear trap to wrench my hand away from her. My college roommate, understanding my hesitation, kindly said it was ok I didn’t have to rub her tummy and the awkward moment passed.  Last year, while attending the baby shower for Hermano’s girlfriend, he asked to have our pictures taken and wanted me to place my hand on her stomach. I quietly brushed it off, but he insisted until I got red in the face and nearly started crying. I’ve never seen the picture, but I’m sure my face must register the discomfort. I tried explaining, but it makes no sense to the fertile public and I know Hermano was offended.

 

I don’t know why pregnant belly’s are a personal kryptonite, but I just cannot bring myself to touch one. When my co-worker friend and I were discussing this we came to the conclusion it was different for each person struggling with infertility. She was gutted by the ultrasound picture, pulling the one and only picture of her baby out of hiding from her desk drawer. She explained she just couldn’t throw it away and yet couldn’t have it in her house. So, the ultrasound picture resides in a corner of her desk drawer at work. We each have different things we handle better than others. It makes me wonder how my aunt, childless not by choice, endured being a nurse in labor and delivery for over 30 years?