Constricting the baby could be something that third trimester mothers are unknowingly doing, I pondered over a long weekend of driving to southwestern Virginia and back to see relatives. The seatbelt is not designed for burgeoning bellies. First off, it’s hard to get it to release enough slack to get it over the belly and into the holding latch. It was a struggle each time I got in the car this weekend, which was a lot of times because pregnant women pee quite often. Pregnant women need to get out of the car and stretch their legs. So what was supposed to be a seven-hour drive, turned into a 10 hour one. Once the seatbelt was on, it was only a matter of time before it had to be adjusted to give the belly a break or to place the lap section either above or below the belly. Across the belly was no good. A strap mark quickly appeared. Was I cutting off circulation to my baby? Maybe this trip to see Prairie’s grandparents wasn’t such a good idea. What I packed for clothes was a joke. The weather ended up being freezing cold one day, cold every morning and night, then 70 degrees during the rest of the days. I just threw things together, not really paying attention to what I was bringing or what the weather was. I had more important things on my mind, such as what to do with the cat while gone. Anyway, the wardrobe was a disaster. The pants I brought were too tight or slipped below the belly, making me look ridiculous in public. I had a black maternity polyester dress on one day that was too tight and made me look even more gargantuan than I think I already am. When I sat down, it hiked way up, drawing stares, I suspected. Because in a sitting position, the back is slouched and the legs are flopped apart. I must tell you now I can no longer tie my shoes, bend over enough to wash below my thighs or reach my feet, or cross my legs like a real lady should do. I was in the South this weekend, a Confederate state, south of the Mason-Dixie line. A lady has got to be a lady. So this waddling, huge lady with mismatched, unfitting maternity clothes and a working man’s posture was no doubt a site to see. I had to keep lifting the entire belly up, as if it were a giant ball, to get the clothes and the seat belt to cooperate. I don’t have pregnancy etiquette, I sit here realizing. For I would stare at me too. Adjusting the belly and dressing and looking like a slouch draw scrutiny. Melania Trump and Princess Diana had elegance, grace, and beautiful shoes during their sleek pregnancies. I look like a brood mare dragged in from the back pasture. If I had gone into labor this weekend in the farming mountains of southwestern Virginia, surely any farmer would know what to do…calve me. I rambled around that countryside and amongst that town folk with the confidence that I was in good hands if anything happened. Etiquette? At this point, I just feel accomplished if I can get from point A to point B in comfort. Sitting here with stretchy sweatpants on is doing both me and the baby a world of good. We are both at our most comfortable just letting it all out.
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