The Question Which Must Not Be Asked

There is a question which must not be asked. There is just never a time to ask it, even if you absolutely feel you're sure you can ask it being certain you know the answer. Do you know what I'm talking about? If you're a woman 18 years or older, you probably do. You probably have experience with it and know the pain of being asked the question when the answer is no. Know the question now? Here it is:

"Are you pregnant?"

There is nothing quite so soul-crushing or confidence-depleting as that question when the answer is "No". 
The first time someone asked me that question was during my student teaching year. A well-meaning 3rd grader asked if I was pregnant. Not even being married at the tender age of 22, I was kind of shocked that it even occured to that child that it was a possibility. Regardless, I turned bright red, sucked in my gut and fought back tears. I think I laughed and said "No, I'm not even married." That was the first time I dealt with that question and it stuck with me in the worst kind of way. 

The next time was just after I'd had my son, Colin, and was maybe 2 months post-pardom. I gained more than my fair share of weight with both of my pregnancies, but looked especially haggard after having Colin, my first-born, via c-section. I went to a dermatologist appointment wearing a white shirt and, all proud of myeslf, non-maternity jeans. Pride goes before the fall, people, and I fell hard. The receptionist asked how far along I was in my pregnancy. Ouch. I said I'd just had my baby and she just kind of looked stunned and asked when I'd like my next appointment. I stood there feeling extra muffin-toppy in my tight jeans and gave her a date I determined I probably wouldn't want to fill since I didn't want to face her or more potential embarrassment again.

The most recent time (that I can remember as I feel like it's happened more than just the 3 times...) was today. I went over with my boys to my neighbors' house to say thank you for a super cute Easter gift she left on our porch for our boys. My other neighbor was there and the first thing out of her mouth was "Are you pregnant??" in a sort of aghast tone. I said (regrettably) "No, thankfully not." My other neighbor said "Oh she's just holding Ethan in a motherly way" or something. I sucked in my gut, mumbled something about how I shouldn't has said "thankfully not" and felt extra fat.  

Welp, I've just described 3 of the worst moments of my life. And no, I'm not exaggerating. Seriously, that is the most painfully offensive question for me (and for many women). Each time I've been asked, I'm in the midst of an upswing in my weight and am trying to lose the extra pounds. Also, I tend to never wear the outfit I sported the day of the questioning ever again thinking that has got to have something to do with it. I also resolve to work on my posture. I struggle with body image and feel fat most of the time. I have an ideal weight (don't we all?) that is hard to achieve but since I was at it for about 1 1/2 years, I think I always should be. That's a struggle for me, for sure. Currently trying to lose weight and struggling, this was a certain confidence blow. ((What's that tub of ice cream? You say you'd like me to eat you in one sitting? Let's try not and hopefully using this experience to motivate some change in unhealthy habits instead.)) 

Here's the thing, though. I think that no matter who you're talking to- a round tummied, self-critiquing girl like me (who has never, since I was born, had a flat tummy) or an uber-confident girl-- this question should just not be asked. Even if you think you're sure,  let them say something first about the subject. I may have made this mistake in the past (I can't remember doing so, but I'm guessing I did before I became aware of the pain it can cause), but I never will again. It may sound too strict, but really, I just don't want to risk causing that kind of pain (oh and let's not even get into the fact that some women may be struggling with infertility).

So, my stance is never ask. Well, what happens if you do by some accident? What to do in that embarrassing moment when the asked-woman is trying to laugh it off and fight back tears? 

-Apologize. The people in my scenarios didn't apologize. It would have done me a world of good to hear "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize" or something along those lines. Just a simple "I'm sorry!" would suffice. This is probably enough, because believe me, the lady probably wants to move on.

However...
-Following up with a compliment can't hurt. 

-Giving a short version of why you thought that can be helpful. "Oh! The way the wind caught your empire wasted shirt, I thought I saw a tiny bump" or "My mistake, you're flat as a pancake." ...maybe that would come across fake, in which case you could say, "Oh, I must have babies on the brain!" or "Oh, I guess I was just hoping you were pregnant- you make such cute babies!" or "Oh, I am wondering now why I even thought that. You don't look pregnant at all. I spoke before I thought!" and so on. Ease the poor girl's mind or she'll be feeling fat for the rest of her day/month/year/lifetime.

So, what are your thoughts on this subject? What is your experience with "The Question Which Must Not Be Asked"? I hope you don't have any, but my guess is you do.

And I'll leave you with this perfect visual for the subject matter...

Running the Race- Blog Redo

Over the past few months on my daily run, I ponder big life issues, random thoughts, the view, the feeling of wind in my hair and my legs moving me forward and everything in between (including anymore cliche running thoughts one can think of).

Lately I keep thinking- "That could be a good blog entry" or "I'd love to post that on Facebook, but it's too long" or "I'd love to post that and get some feedback from people" or "I'd love to record this thought for future reference or to sort of keep track and hopefully learn from it". 
So, in keeping with those thoughts and hopes, here I am again: blogging. Blogging and I don't have a great relationship, but I've been getting more involved in the blogosphere (if that's still the correct term) and want to be a part of it. 

So, let's do this. 

Today is Good Friday. Many say this is not exactly an appropriate title for the day on which Jesus sacrificially died on the cross for the whole world even though He didn't deserve it and didn't have to do it. The BC comic below eloquently states the irony: 

Right on, BC. Right on.

Today, though, I have been thinking of it on a more personal level. My church, wcrossing.org  did a Good Friday-esque service last week because they have like a billion services for Easter so they do Easter services on Friday. I really appreciated their focus on the Good Friday style service (even if it sadly meant no focus on Palm Sunday. It's a give and take, I suppose, always.). The service focused on what the cross means for us. 

The point that hit me the most, and of course made me cry as most services and moments with God do lately, was when Pastor Greg explained that when Jesus cried in the garden and asked God to "take the cup" of suffering away from him, it translated, in part, to meaning "I'm homesick".

 Jesus was homesick. That never occurred to me in such plain terms. Homesick. That feeling that I live with daily being 16 hours away from the place I love and call home. Homesick. The empty feeling, the feeling like you can't breath and just wish you could run, literally in my case, back home. Homesick. The feeling of missing family and friends and events that will never happen again. Homesick. The feeling of just not fitting in, not understanding the culture and not preferring the natural surroundings (I'm a desert mountain girl, and apparently that's not changing). Homesick.

In a very self-centered view, I felt so understood and so empathized with by Jesus. He totally gets it. Totally. More than I do, in fact. I realize Good Friday and the cross is not all about me- not even close. But in that moment, I felt like God was telling me "I get it. It's super hard. But you know what? I've been there. I took the cup of suffering- the homesickness. The being away from the ones who love Me and the hard times- to the nth degree because I was forsaken by my Father God. I did it so you don't have to be separated from God. I can carry you through your homesickness and hard times." In the grand scheme of things, I tend to think I'm super weak for being taken out at the knees by something like homesickness (imagine me facing cancer, I think, pretty sure I'd wimp out after the first moment). But then I heard this message and I remembered that God cares about the hairs on our heads, the details of our plans and lives and cares. More than that, He relates and walks with me in my suffering. 

What the what. Amazing. God shows me again and again He is all I need. My heart needs to hear that and I need to allow it to change my heart and focus on Him and run to Him daily. A daily struggle yes, but this moment was one more way God showed me His love.