Hello, from the other side of a whirlwind of July social-showers! This month, I’ve hosted/attended a handful of fun, milestone events for friends. Earlier this month we celebrated a good friend’s impending September baby at a gorgeous shower, and today, I’m still recuperating from wonderful weekend away with the ladies to celebrate a close friends’ up-coming wedding… in other words: A BACHELORETTE PARTY!
This was not my first pregnant bachelorette party, but it was certainly my most pregnant. As such, I tried to create a nice weekend that was a perfect combination of shenanigans and relaxation — not just for my own benefit but because I was in good company! 3 out of 10 girls on the trip were pregnant (26, 29, and 32 weeks respectively). Despite some of us needing more down-time than others, I think everyone enjoyed a pretty solid weekend of hot springs, beach time, fancy dinner, and yep, a little clubbin’!
So here’s where the title of this post comes into play. After our “fancy dinner” out on the town, the two other pregnant gals decided to retreat back to our rental house for some more R&R while the rest of us carried on to the a dance club to keep the festivities going. Yes, I totally trooped it out. I mean, what was the big deal? I can have a fun time sober! I like to dance! And I loved the other ladies I was with and wanted to keep spending time with them. But I must admit…
…it was sorta weird too.
Here’s the deal. I LOOK pretty dang pregnant these days. And the dance floor was packed with sweaty twenty-somethings who I was pretty sure could tell I was “bumpin” so to speak. Did they think I was a bad mother, hanging out in a bar? Could they tell I was only drinking water? I hope so! Were they grossed out by me? Was it like being at a club with your mom? I was sort of self conscious to put it mildly. Despite this, I was able to to bust some serious moves and had a GREAT time dancing and laughing at my friends who were getting a lot of attention from an adjacent bachelor party. I was happy to watch from a safe distance and egg people on, until one of these party-goers decided he wanted to dance with me.
ME?! Was he twisted?
He started dancing close to me, innocently enough. Probably sensing my hesitation he asked, “HEY! CAN WE DANCE?!” To which I shouted back… “Eh… I’m married. And pregnant. And sober…” which in my mind was the ultimate trifecta of NO YOU DON’T WANT THIS, MOVE ALONG! But instead he replied, “AWESOME!” and put his hands on my waist. The look on my face was pure panic.
In less than 2 seconds, my girlfriends came rushing to my side, barricading this 25 year old frat boy from me (and MM) with brute force. Once we were all “safe” the guy came back to apologize to me in earnest. “I’m sorry,” he said. And with a genuinely inquisitive look on his face he asked, “it is weird to dance with pregnant people?”
Was it? Struck by the question, I wasn’t even sure what to say. After a moment I replied, “Yeah. I guess it is sorta weird.”
And not for the reason I originally thought. It wasn’t because I’m huge, and unsexy, and awkward. It is because I am currently my unborn son. Strange as that may sound, we are physically one body. I am his shell, I am his mother, I am his protector. And some stranger was near him. I could care less about some guy wanting to dance with me. But no stranger dare come near my child.
The story played out later among my girlfriends that even at 7 months pregnant, I still “had it” for which I should feel proud. But in my quieter moments, I congratulated myself for another reason: that I had somewhere along the lines turned into a mother. That that little twinge of excitement around garning attention from men had been completely replaced by the motherly instincts. This doesn’t feel right. My son is here, and we’re leaving.
From then on, I laughed from the side-lines and then we found a more mellow creekside dance floor, where it was just my group of girlfriends on the dance floor. We danced in a big circle like it was 1999, unabashedly enjoying each other’s company and relishing in our friendship. I felt truly grateful to be with them and even happier that I “stayed up late” for the big night. We made great memories, and one day I hope these friends-turned-aunties to my son will tell him what a cool mom he has. :)