1. Because we might not be pregnant. And then we'll think you're calling us fat. As much as we treasure new reasons to question our appearance, maybe you should refrain from asking the question until there's a giant baby head dangling from our crotch.
2. Because we might be pregnant. And if we're not ready to reveal it, or if we just don't want to tell you because you're a big blabbermouth gossip troll, you are forcing us to lie to you. (It's either lie to you or punch you square in the hippocampus so you won't remember the last few minutes, because saying "no comment" is the same as a "yes" in skywriting.) Lying does not feel good, for anyone. And later when the truth is revealed, you'll resent the fact that we lied to your face. And we'll resent that you had the balls to ask about our ovaries.
3. Because it's none of your goddamn business what goes on in our baby cave. If it was, our facebook status would look something like this:
April 2: Shark Week. Ugh.
April 13: Egg came down the fallopian tube today. Wheeeeeeeee.
April 17: There's a trouser snake in my lady garden!
May 2: Anybody seen Aunt Flo? Dat bitch is late.
4. Lots of things can happen during the first 12 weeks of pregnancy. This is when miscarriage is most likely. The meatball in your uterus is not even considered a fetus yet; it's an embryo about the size of, well, a meatball. Nobody likes to reveal they're pregnant too early, only to lose the baby and for the next seven or eight months have to tell people, who once thought you were preggers BECAUSE YOU FREAKIN' TOLD THEM that you no longer are. They feel bad, you feel bad, it's all super yucky. It's something best avoided by all. And easily avoided too, by keeping all our mouths shut for 12 measly weeks. Think you can stop thinking about our love ovens for that long?
5. Everything changes when people find out you're pregnant. People start treating you differently. They don't throw the football at you hard, if at all, even though the doctor said mister embryo is a freakin' gladiator up in here. Colleagues start planning work around you, knowing your absence is imminent. Sure, they'll know eventually, and of course they'll have to prepare, but maybe we'd like to take those first 12 weeks or so -- before the bump makes a great table for your bowl of ice cream -- to get used to the idea that this is going to change a whole lot of shit. We have affairs to get in order before we become "the potbelly in the corner office."
6. We're not exactly in a celebratory mood. Morning sickness? What a misnomer. It's all-day sickness for many of us. And we're trying desperately to hide it. It is not fun -- not the sickness, nor the secrecy. This is not a time when we want to gyrate up and down the hallways with baby-making mirth. We are just trying to keep dry toast down. Around 12 weeks the nausea usually subsides, so we'll be more in the mood to share the good news at that fine hour. Until then, shut your gaping pie hole.
7. Maybe we haven't decided what we're doing yet. Maybe we're keeping it. Maybe we're not. Oh stop your gasping. It's 2014; we've fought hard for our reproductive rights. Women have abortions for lots of different reasons, from birth defects to bad timing. The reasons are none of your concern, but one thing you should know is that it does happen. Not every pregnancy is sparkling with fairy dust and rainbows. So you might want to refrain from gleefully blurting out, "OMG, are you, like, totally having a baby?" because the response might very well be, "Not for long! Can you drive me to the abortion clinic?"
8. If we tell you, we risk more and more people knowing. We haven't even told our parents yet! We haven't even told THE FATHER yet. We may not even know who the father IS yet. Bitch, please. Wait your turn.
9. Maybe we're starting a website called "Hump the Bump" for people who get off on pregnant ladies and we want the launch to be a total surprise.
10. BECAUSE IT'S NONE OF YOUR GODDAMN BUSINESS.
So if you notice us looking chesty or chubby or pukey, if you see us taking naps at our desk or tossing back crackers like tequila off a stripper's ass, if you notice us going to doc appointments, switching to decaf, or refusing alcohol (we don't like this anymore than you do, okay!), just shut the hell up about it. At most, ask if we're okay. Then shut your damn face. Don't shout out at the office, "Somebody's acting preggers!" Don't even ask us one-on-one. That's probably worse, because it feels even shittier to look you in the eyeball and flat-out lie. And don't email the girl in the next office with your suspicions either, because maybe we told her because we like her better than you or because she caught us vomiting into the recycling bin and helped us hold back our hair and we spilled the beans literally and figuratively, and then SHE has to lie to you. So much lying, people. You know what's a great name for a boy? Pinocchio. Or Lance Armstrong.
Just have some respect, that's all. There can be a lot more going on here than a wonderful secret waiting to be guessed. Most likely, we're not keeping it a secret because we're planning some big surprise announcement on Twitter (though we might be, and that's reason enough for you to mind ya bidness). Most likely, we're keeping it under wraps because it's the smart thing to do.
Now go back to your own reproductive organs, please and thanks. Maybe create some action in your own pants/pelvic area so you can stop being so preoccupied with ours.
P.S. I'm nearly 12 weeks pregnant. And now you know -- congratulations! If you were suspicious all along, well aren't you just a bloody genius. A sincere "thank you" for keeping your brilliance to yourself.
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