Are you There? It's Me, the Vagina.

I've discovered that the suckiest part of being pregnant is not the traumatizing stories or dangerous old wives tales strangers, friends, and family alike are suddenly compelled to share and insist you repeat. It's not even the people making eye contact with only your belly or boobs and grabbing your belly out of nowhere. Heartburn, constipation, diarrhea, Braxton Hicks, and cervical pain are all a piece of cake. It's the part where you are gradually belittled and pushed aside to no more than a mere vagina. Just a body part waiting to carry out one function.

You're not a woman anymore, you're not even a person in general. All you are is the obstacle between everyone out there and a baby's face. From my experience within my own family, all anyone cares about is what color the baby is (I kid you not - a huge factor in my family), whether he or she is pretty or ugly, and who he or she looks like. As soon as they've pushed their way through to get a good, long, scrutinizing look, they take off, never to be heard from again, only to push their faces in to take a look and make comments and poke around that very same baby when he or she starts going through puberty, and again when they become of marrying age. I've kept my distance from my family for these reasons, but with my due date getting closer, the only way to avoid people now would be to hide under a rock in the middle of Antartica.

Now, people are making my hormones cry me to sleep at night. It's my fault the baby hasn't gained enough weight. It's my fault the baby is moving as much as he/she is. It's my fault the baby might come early. It's my fault my blood count is as low as it is. It's my fault I haven't gained as much weight during the pregnancy. It's my fault I had the flu and the cold. It's my fault the hospital bags took so long to organize. It's my fault the house isn't cleaned and rearranged already. It's my fault the baby room isn't finished.

Wanting a gender neutral green & white theme is stupid and people will buy blue/pink based on what shape my belly is, and the baby BETTER be the gender they're buying for. It doesn't matter what I want, only what they want and they're telling me it will be a boy/girl, just wait and see. If it's a girl, I better look for bright pink and cute princess dresses because that's what all girls are supposed to wear whether I want to shove that old fashioned concept down my child's throat or not. If it's a boy, I better make sure everything he has is blue and screams "BOY" because that's what you're supposed to do with boys, whether I want to follow that stereotypical notion or not. It doesn't matter what I feel, what I think, or what I want. I am not important in any of these decisions, nor should I expect to have any kind of say whatsoever.

I should not breastfeed my baby at night, only during the day, and the baby should be bottle-fed formula at night only by my husband, not me. Cleaning, cooking, washing, and taking care of the baby are all solely my responsibilities and the only help I should ask for/accept is with regards to traditional old wives tales of "rubbing the uterus back in place" even if I don't want any more strangers near my lady parts, and "oiling down" the baby. I should get rid of the things I actually do have ready for the baby that doesn't meet the approval of one or two particular people, and use nothing until they can get the products they insist I use. The only things that are necessary for the baby are things that were used by other moms 20-30 years ago and anything more is just being obnoxious.

It doesn't matter what the hospital, doctor, nurses, or clinic staff say, if this person says I should use a 30 year old product instead of following modern day medical advice, that's exactly what I should do, no exceptions. If I know I have severe side effects from a certain medication that leads to me being hospitalized, I should still take it because someone can get it for cheap over the counter in another country. If someone has offered to buy a book/toy/article of clothing for the baby and asks for my input, I should not mention that I would like to follow a gender neutral (GREEN AND MOTHERFUCKING WHITE PEOPLE. IS THAT SO MOTHERFUCKING HARD TO UNDERSTAND? "Excuse me ma'am/sir, can I help you?" "Oh yes please, I'm looking for something gender neutral, green and white preferably, can you show me what selections you have available?/I was looking at this actually, do you have it available in green and/or white?" "Why yes, come right this way/No, I'm sorry, you'll have to check another store." "THANK YOU" End of fucking story. WILL THAT FUCKING KILL SOMEONE???? WILL IT MOTHERFUCKING KILL THEM?!?!?!!?!) theme or have a preference of certain things over another. I should understand that I have no say in any of the decisions being made about myself or my the baby, and things like colors aren't big deals anyway, but I should be very understanding of how important those things are to every one else out there, like the people going on about how it BETTER be a boy because they bought all blue or it BETTER be a girl because they bought all pink.

Why am I keeping the baby from being born? Why am I hurrying the baby to be born? Why don't I make the baby put on more weight? Why don't I use *insert old wives tale here* instead of *insert sound modern day medical advice/common sense here*?

It goes on, trust me. It might not seem like a big deal; I've tried to talk to one or two people about it and they certainly don't think it is, but for a young mom-to-be trying to figure out how to be a good mother with no example to follow and figure out how to provide the best she can for her baby, all of these opinions/orders don't make things any easier. How are you supposed to have any kind of mother/child relationship with so many hands twisting you this way and that and demanding that you follow so many orders? Whatever happened to motherhood being a beautiful thing? Or the mother/child relationship being a sacred/special one? Isn't breastfeeding my decision and kind of up to the baby and my milk supply more than the orders from someone else miles away? Don't I as a parent get to decide whether or not I want to swaddle my baby or rock him/her to sleep? Can't I decide whether or not I want to bathe my baby in a bucket/bowl or a baby bathtub? Can't I make decisions about diapering my baby, or wait to see how cloth diapering works out, or what kind of disposable diaper works with the baby before getting stocks of a certain kind of disposable diaper? Can't I plan for teething rings, play mats, and toys when the baby reaches those stages if I have no say in anything else at the very least? Can't I decide on who I am and am not comfortable informing about my cervical information, labor information, and see first when the baby is born?

What irks me more than anything is knowing that I always keep my head down and take things like this very quietly. I don't make a fuss, I don't argue, I don't stand up for myself period. I say nothing out loud and everything in my head. I always look for the lower, more respectful road. That stupid road gets me HERE. Fighting back tears for the fourth time today alone. The people that curse and scream and lie and cheat and steal? They're all living the high life, doing as they please, and they know damned well nobody can dare come near them and breathe anything remotely close to "you better", "you should", or "you have to". THEY are bowed down to and welcomed everywhere they go with open arms, revered as kings and queens of their time. Me? I'm just a vagina pushing out a kid people want to see.

However, even if I am just a vagina, I think what I'm about to do, you know, the whole bringing a baby into the world thing? Yeah, that. I think it's still pretty important. I think that not just anyone can pull that off and I'm pretty special for it. Look at a penis. Or a boob. Or an elbow. Think they can handle the pressure? No. That's why it's my job. I might be bruised and swollen and sore afterwards, but I'm the one who handles this job. Even if nobody else realizes it. Even if all the fingers and toes and nose hairs give themselves a parade afterwards. They might hide me away under a hospital gown, but I'll know what I accomplished. One day, all us vaginas will unite and show 'em all who's boss. Until then, very, very quiet rounds of applause for us all. *quietly cheers*