The Invisible Woman

Me being me, one of the things I loved most about being pregnant was the attention I got. Everyone was interested in me and what I had to say and how I was feeling.

It was awesome.

And then I actually had the baby.

And no one ((Well, not no one. But the vast majority of people.)) remembered that I even existed. They didn’t care that I had just birthed a 9+ pound baby. They didn’t ask how I was doing or feeling or if I was even breathing. Everyone cared about LB.

After the relative rock-stardom of pregnancy, it was a bit of an adjustment.

And it continues to this day. LB is the main attraction; the DreadBrewer and I are merely members of her entourage.

At work, at least twice a day, I have patients ask me, “How’s that baby?”

First off, it’s not that baby. It’s my baby and she’s a girl and her name is the Littlest Brewster. ((Not really, but it’s close enough.)) The question should be, “How’s your daughter?” or “How’s LB?”

Second off, what happened to asking how I’m doing? What happened to “How are you?”?

Oh, I know what happened – I had a baby. And I ceased to be interesting.

Grandparents are just as bad, if not worse, as strangers, acquaintances, and friends. My parents don’t come to visit us anymore; they come to visit LB. We just happen to live in the same house. Oh, I know they still love me and want to see me – but I doubt they would take the train up from Charlotte for the day to hang out if an 8-month old bundle of cuteness wasn’t involved. We see DB’s mom a lot more now that there’s the added bonus of the Littlest Brewster. And that’s fine; I want our daughter to have a close relationship with her grandparents, which is a lot easier to do if we see them frequently.

But it was definitely one of those ugly truths about motherhood for which I was unprepared.

So, if you happen to be pregnant or thinking about starting your family, consider yourself warned. Your days of being interesting are numbered.

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