I never knew that I was prideful about my job until I went to a baby shower a few weeks back. The women were all sitting around talking. Mostly making small talk. The worst. Finally someone talked to me (I don’t really like talking to strangers). She asked me what my husband did for work. I told her. And then she said something, she asked me if I stayed at home. My reply, “Ummmm… no. I’m a teacher.” It made me feel so good to say that. But why? I felt good knowing that I had a job “outside of the home” even though I have quite a few friends who are blessed and happy to be stay at home moms. While I respect them, I just never thought the stay-at-home gig was for me.
Flash forward to Easter Sunday.
As of today, I’m 15.5 weeks pregnant. But when I got dressed for church today, I put on a long fitted t-shirt and a pair of pre-pregnancy jeans. I told Wes, “I don’t look pregnant today. Just pudgy.” His response, “You look beautiful.” He’s so good for my ego but I wish I always felt beautiful. Like if I could harness the way that he looks at me and see myself that way, it would be freaking awesome! It can’t be that hard… can it?
I didn’t think anymore about it until we got to church and I started rambling:
“I mean, I guess it’s good that I’m not noticeably pregnant yet. I don’t want to gain a lot of weight. It’s just that before I started exercising, people would always ask me when the baby was due or if I was pregnant. That was part of the reason that I started wanted to walk for exercise and eat more consciously. Now, that I am actually pregnant and I’m not pudgy with just fat, I want people to notice. I don’t want them to think it’s normal. I mean, ask me when my baby’s due. Pleaseeeeee.”
And there’s the pride. Pride about my job. My career. Pride about my looks and the pudge that I worked really, really hard to get rid of. Pride. Always showing up when I least expect it.