I’m superstitious, but not in a fun or folksy way—in a MAJOR ANXIETY DISORDER way—and I did not share the big life news this summer, though it is joyful. My sister got married! I am pregnant!
Hooray! These events have been blessings and though summer was hot, I had a pretty darn fabulous time.
I mean this sincerely and I don’t want what comes later to diminish or change it in any way: It was the honor of my life to be the Megatron of Honor for my sister.
I got to coordinate a cute beachy weekend and Cape May delivered us the BEST weather, food, quaint atmosphere, and ice cream:
I pretended I was a contestant on RuPaul’s Drag Race and completing a challenge as I made the decor for a Bridal Shower:
Hey, we’re all born naked and the rest is drag. I wore pink and makeup and nail polish at the wedding, and had someone young and fun coach me on how to take a bump selfie:
All of the wonderful wedding celebrations happened within my first six months of pregnancy. I had some vivid dreams, sure, and there were weird body changes and discomforts peppered throughout. But in those first six months, it all felt good. I needed a daily nap but I still felt like myself! And didn’t even look pregnant, every single person on earth who isn’t a doctor seemed to want to tell me.
[WHAT is with all the fatphobia around pregnancy? I have a large belly because I am growing a person. It’s the only way to do it. You don’t have to tell me I’m not fat? I don’t care if I am fat, or if you think I am! You don’t need to comment on my body AT ALL unless you are an OBGYN, thanks!]
And when wedding stuff was over, I tried to be as clear as I could be with family, friends, and coworkers: That was a wild summer! Now I would like to rest!
But the thing about hardly looking or seeming pregnant to others, the thing about being so damn COMPETENT that you complete work projects that you aren’t even paid to do, about planning and delivering family events while also working fulltime while also pitching a novel to agents while also growing a tiny human inside you and appearing to do all those things well to people who can’t see you screaming in pain as you walk up the stairs in your own house is:
The reward for competence seems only to be having more asked you. More tasks, more favors, more work.
I am now in my third trimester and wow, things have changed. It started with vibrant, existential nightmares: the absolute worst of my life. Sleep and nighttime are brutal for me, with leg cramps and the kind of acid reflux where I wake up choking on stomach acid and have a sore throat for days afterward.
And then in the waking world, even though I have said out loud to people that I don’t feel so great, I am burned out, I need to slow down, I am tired and I want to do less … People keep asking more and more of me. To do labor I am not paid to do, in one way or another.
I am sure this is some mystery of brain chemicals and hormones, but I am angry a lot of the time now. Which is odd, because people have been super nice to me! Everyone loves a bump. Strangers at the farmers market tell me about their grandkids’ deliveries.
But it sure feels like whenever people who know me pay me a compliment about how seemingly put together I appear while doing a whole lot, the next sentence is a request to do extra labor.
Do I need to write this part out to be clear? I love my job, I’ve worked hard in my career, sure it’s nice to be appreciated. The best way to be appreciated at work is to be paid well for the work I do. And not asked to do extra work for no extra coin.
I love my family/friends/community. ALSO, I am not naturally a planner. I consider party-planning unpaid labor. It isn’t fun for me, it is a chore. Stop giving me chores.
And also, duh: I am 38 years old and got pregnant on purpose, with a partner who is fully all-in as an equal coparent, and we are giggly in love with this little one already. I am HAPPY to be pregnant. I am UNHAPPY to be treated like I am not pregnant; like I don’t always have a need for rest but as if I don’t have a heightened one now; like it’s some compliment to ask me for more and more labor. This baby is going to change our lives. This pregnancy already has. Those things are great! The change is welcome! YOU ARE NOT DOING ME ANY FAVORS OR PAYING ME A COMPLIMENT IF YOU PRETEND YOU CANNOT SEE THAT MY LIFE HAS CHANGED!
Here are my true ambitions for the rest of this pregnancy and my life for the foreseeable future beyond that. Whatever you ask me beyond these things is an imposition. Just assume my answer will be No! I mean it! Stop asking!:
- I want to be off work Saturdays and Sundays. A true weekend; I don’t want comp time, though I will use my Union resources to fight for what is due to me. I want to not be asked to work during time that is sacred, for rest. I want to be free of work obligations for the same days of the week my spouse is; we have to prep our house, y’all, and our whole lives.
* Calling venues, making invitations, and otherwise hosting people is labor! I don’t want to spend my weekends or any time doing this. There are people who find this fun! I am not those people! It is free work you are asking of me. But even if you paid me, I hate this kind of work! NO!!! I AM ALREADY SO BURNED OUT I HAVE TO TAKE SICK DAYS TO CRY! - The way I soothe my conscience and mind when I just cannot think of a way to have this baby without microplastics and trucks burning fossil fuel is making placemats for a local soup kitchen. I write gentle messages that probably I need to hear, too, and maybe so do you.
- I am rewatching comfort movies and it’s fun and relaxing. I want to do that more. I want to do that more than work. Do not take me away from my comfort by asking me to do more work.
- I’m writing about vampires again. Joined an online writers group that is actually too demanding for me and I miss at least one week’s assignment every month but no one said I had to do a free online writers group PERFECTLY. There is nothing I will ever do perfectly for the rest of my life.
And that’s it. I don’t want to do anything beyond what I just listed, and the things I have to do, I do not plan to do competently.
The thing you can do for me is SPREAD THE RUMOR, FAR AND WIDE, THAT I AM TOTALLY INCOMPETENT! I CANNOT HELP YOU! THE QUALITY OF MY WORK IS POOR AND IT IS A WASTE OF YOUR TIME TO ASK ANYTHING OF ME! LEAVE ME ALONE, I AM WATCHING SCREAM!
Laura Eppinger 