Yesterday I read a really thoughtful piece (comments not withstanding) on Kate Middleton’s pregnancy from Lisa Belkin, who happens to be the queen of thoughtful pieces. It’s called What Kate Middleton Lost When Her Pregnancy Was Announced. (Cleverly optimized for SEO and clicks by editors with the permalink: “Kate_Middleton_Secret_Pregnancy.”)

The gist can be summed up in the opening sentence: The space between the moment you learn you are pregnant and the one when you reveal that to the wider world is the most intimate time in a woman’s life. And her main point was one I had never considered–that forget the tiara, the title, the ring, the notoriety,  whomever you are, as a first-time mom-to-be especially, there’s something magical about that brief period of “just between you and me.” And now it’s gone for her.

It’s not sad like sick children sad, but still, I sympathize.

Indeed, we live in a world where the moment your pregnancy is public, you are the target for criticism, commentary, and advice both wanted and unwanted, on anything and everything, from the people you know and the people you don’t. I still remember comments on my weight, my skin, what I was eating, what I wasn’t eating, what I shampooed with, what kind of pillow I was sleeping with. I remember the barista (before Starbucks retrained all of them to the peak of awesomeness) who questioned my grande coffee order–which happened to be for Nate. The raised eyebrows when I ordered a glass of Pinot 41 weeks into my second pregnancy. The concern from some friends when I went to a concert with loud music.

(Oh noes! Not the loud music!) Continue reading →