Oh you just found out you’re pregnant? Welcome.

Are you nervous? Of course you are!

Get ready because now perfect strangers feel the need to comment on your life and ask intrusive questions. People who once upon a time would not have even made eye contact with you at the grocery store are now telling you how to raise your children in the dog food isle.

If you are lucky, you may even get your stomach rubbed by a stranger in the grocery store.

It really does blow my mind. Why because you have a baby in your belly do people think it’s okay to touch you without asking?

Imagine if I was standing at the deli in Stop and Shop and I just turned to some random woman who isn’t pregnant and said, “Oh hey I love your top!” Then start rubbing my hands all over her stomach and shoulders.

A couple things could happen. She may yell, punch, run away or call the cops? Who really knows. But one thing we can all agree upon is that she would definitely think I was nuts.

You just don’t go around rubbing people!

All the rules change when you are pregnant. Luckily for me, I don’t really give off the “touch me” vibe.

I definitely was rocking a frown at the end of my second pregnancy. Let’s just say that my give a damn was busted.

So I only got touched a few times but that was because some Betty White looking mother truckers at the library just did not care. They would come over and grope me while Ben and I were trying to check out the turtles and perform our own two man puppet show.

Questions. questions. questions.

While you are pregnant you spend 75% of your time answering questions and the other 25% laying in your bed with 12 pillows, a snoogle, and your lap top on your nightstand. Binge watching Netflix. Orange is the New Black. Ahh.. Just one more episode. It’s easy to watch four episodes in one night when you go to bed at 7:30.

Oh was that just me?

Once baby shows up you assume the awkward conversations will have to settle down a little bit. You don’t have a huge baby bump so maybe people will be less interested in you. You love how nice people are but you are exhausted from small talk.

That doesn’t happen.

The awkward just morphs into new topics. You assume your life will just be sitcom st‌yle awkward banter from here on out.

If “Girls” on HBO needed a postpartum Mom character that would be you.

My own postpartum body is foreign to me. I think the only person I can really identify with is Santa. I have really buff arms and legs. They got skinny again quick. But then my middle is so jolly.

Santa is climbing in and out of all those chimneys, clearly he has some muscles. He is nimble but still carts around that big ol’ belly.  I consider my staircase my chimney. I just go up and down it all day long.

I get it now Santa.

No wonder you always wear that ugly red suit. You are just sick of trying to find clothes that fit correctly. Your arms and legs continue to tone up. Your stomach is taking its sweet time… you now look kinda pregnant again.

It is not a body type listed when Cosmo tells you “How to dress to your body type.”

Uhhh.. I think after taking the quiz on “what my body type is” I found out my ideal outfits are a poncho or a ghost costume.

So now with all that knowledge given to you. I will share my awkward story with you. It is sadly just a day in the life at this point. Therefore, let us laugh because it is better than crying.

I am at my place of employment at the time. I am in the health care center of this place. There are at least 6 people between me and one of the nurses. I like this nurse. She is dry and funny. But she wasn’t trying to be funny. She was dead serious. She yells to me, “You already on #3? What are you trying to break a record or something?” I can feel all the color fill in my face. I say, “Not pregnant. Just fat. haha.” But she does not hear me and keeps talking about my third baby and when it’s due or something. Maybe even if it was a girl?

I didn’t even catch the last couple of questions being asked about my third pregnancy. I think I blacked out.  I was scanning for an exit strategy.

So that happened.

“Oh my god Brittany! You are BEAUTIFUL!” “Brittany, You JUST had two babies!!”

Psh. Save it. Save your excessive Facebook compliments for someone who needs them.

The postpartum struggle is real! But my long term plans are good. I’m going to be power walking in spandex like it’s MY JOB this spring. I’m thankful I can laugh at myself.

How do you survive being a Mom if you can’t laugh??

The moral of this whole tale is that it doesn’t matter. These laughing faces are worth any battle wounds you may have kept from birthing the man beasts. I just look at these silly men and it’s impossible to care that much.  

Hakuna Matata…. It means no worries!