pregnant woman crossing the street
I remember when my sister was pregnant and I went to visit her in the city, and when she crossed streets I’d corral her like I do to Jack, ushering her across the street with my arms, ready to jump in front of any car that didn’t look like it was slowing down. She was an adult, but she was a baby, too, and I instinctually needed to protect her.
I remember this because that’s what my brother did to me a few days ago. But as the pregnant one now, I don’t feel like fragile cargo. I actually feel more invincible: if that car didn’t slow down, the driver would look so stupid. I’m a big, vulnerable target. I’m the target that, if hit, would make headlines. People are extra careful already when they see me; I don’t need to be extra careful myself.
And what I love is I’m not threatening to anyone. If I already projected a non-threatening energy not pregnant, now it has at least doubled. When Steve and I walk into a store, no one thinks we’re going to steal anything. Steve might have a shaved head and a 6′2″ frame, but with a pregnant woman beside him he’s harmless. When we were at the farmer’s market and he told a farmer a joke that was possibly off-color, the farmer paused, then I smiled widely, and the farmer laughed. It’s my new superpower.
