How I Feel About the Word “Pregnant”

First off, a few definitions to get us started:

adjective

  1. having a child or other offspring developing in the body; with child or young, as a woman or mammal.
  2. fraught, filled, or abounding (usually followed by with); a silence pregnant with suspense.
  3. teeming or fertile, rich (usually followed by in); a mind pregnant in ideas.
  4. full of meaning, highly significant; a pregnant utterance.
  5. of great importance or potential; momentous; a pregnant moment in the history of the world.

Let’s see how these definitions apply to me:

1. having a child or other offspring developing in the body; with child or young, as a woman or mammal.

No no no.

No.

Nope, not this one. I am not currently housing a fetus in my womb. There is no alien spawn living within me that is sapping away half of my nutrients.

What’s making me “fat” then, as you call it? Maybe since a good portion of the food I was eating was processed (think Ramen noodles and Vienna sausages) and likely chock full of trans fats and chemicals. Maybe it’s because I’m a bit of a couch potato and I work a desk job six hours out the day. Maybe it’s because my pants are too tight and are giving me a muffin top. I’m a size 6 but I do dry almost all my clothes in the dryer on the highest heat setting so maybe they shrunk.

Why are my boobs getting so big, you ask? Maybe it’s because of the aforementioned processed food. Or maybe it’s because my body is finally going through the last stages of puberty at age 21 instead of 19. Everybody develops differently after all.

So no, sorry to disappoint but this female of childbearing age is not with child. For my parents who want to ascertain that I’m not “throwing my life away”: I’m not pregnant, please stop asking, or worse, telling me what I am. I don’t need you second guessing every symptom of a legitimate illness that I confide in you. If I’m sick to my stomach, if I have a fever, if I’m achy and I generally don’t feel good, it is not a good time for you to jump on my case about the contents of my uterus. It is especially not good to accuse me of being pregnant when I’m having a legitimate emotional response to your diatribe about me not living my life the way you think I should. I will, tearfully and loudly, shout “Fuck No” at you and wonder why I ever confided to you that yes I have had sex.

I’m in a safe-sex practicing, MONOGAMOUS relationship and yuppers we do “do it” occasionally. Neither of us is really ready to raise our own child right now but should the occasion arise where I do end up with an alien inside of me, then yes we would both rise to the occasion and be the best parents we could possibly be for our little creature. It would not be the end of the world. It would be the beginning of a strange, new adventure.

Ideally, we’d like to adopt Lydia from Beetlejuice and raise her as our own.


Ahem, moving on. Other senses in which I am pregnant:

2. fraught, filled, or abounding (usually followed by with); a silence pregnant with suspense.

 

I like the word “abounding” so I’ll use it in that sense.  I’m pregnant with love and hope for humanity. This will not spill forth from my uterus in a gush of blood and bodily fluids. It comes from within my soul. I sincerely hope that humanity can get itself straightened out.

3. teeming or fertile, rich (usually followed by in); a mind pregnant in ideas.

 

My mind is in fact pregnant with ideas. It’s also pregnant with aspirations and dreams and plots and plans. I guess I’m having a litter.
Yay!

Yay!

4. full of meaning, highly significant; a pregnant utterance.

 

I like to believe that a good portion of the things I utter are highly significant so my words are pregnant too. (Oh deary me, where has my mouth been?)

5. of great importance or potential; momentous; a pregnant moment in the history of the world.

 

My life and my collection of experiences are of great importance, as are anyone’s in this world. I guess we’re all pregnant then.

So, what are you naming yours?
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