I love my church, BUT...

Sunday was a wonderful day at church. We had speakers {a few were friends of ours} talk about their mission work in Haiti with orphanages {and I cried and wanted to go to Haiti}. We had 6 Baptisms, with three being a grandpa, his son and his grandbaby {and I cried}. The sermon and music were inspired and fantastic {and of course, I cried}.
I usually cry at these things, but I think being pregnant- especially with a girl this time- has sparked more of a hormone-fest than usual.

There are few other things about being pregnant that drive me crazy like the hormones.
I hate to admit it: it sounds politically INcorrect, ungrateful and selfish- none of the qualites that you would write on your match.com profile {not that I need one}. [And I need to add appropriate caveats here: I am so thankful to be pregnant, we truly feel like we are taking part in a miracle and I hope everyone who longs to be in this state gets there someday.]

With all that said, here’s my beef: at church, well-meaning, cordial, polite people stop you all morning to ask questions like, “How are you feeling?”, “How’s that baby doing?” and- my favorite- “You sure are popping out there!”. Jason plays my wing man to get me out of these lovely situations, but in 2 short hours yesterday morning I had dozens of people say those exact things.

And they all expect you to be happy, gracious and kind as if walking the pregnancy red carpet- stopping and giving a profile shot to each one. Unfortunately, I was yanking a 4 year old’s arm socket out most of the morning and trying to keep his shirt tucked in at the same time {which doesn’t work}. I wasn’t quite in the happy, gracious and kind mood and wanted to hide. This is a horrible attitude to have on Sunday mornings, but have you ever heard of “losing your religion to get to church”? Yes- that happened to us yesterday morning, despite my prep on Saturday {who the heck started this stupid time change on Sundays?}, so I didn’t start out in a worship-like state of mind. It was more like a I-might-kill-my-family-but-we’re-here state of mind. And I’m sure that makes God really happy.

I have compared this societal phenomenon to what it must be what it’s like to have a cast on your arm and have people ask you all day long, “What happened to your arm?”. At least with that you can start making up stories about rescuing small handicapped children or saving a cat from a burning building. But everybody KNOWS how you get pregnant- no public dissertations needed there- but they want to know about every other part of your pregnancy.

Which is fine. In a nice normal setting, I don’t mind talking to people about being pregnant. But in a barrage, surrounded by people you know and love {and I do love them, too, really, I do}, trying to get from point A to B, it is annoying as all-get-out to be asked your due date, your current state of “feeling” and your bodily function level a dozen times. I wanted to scream, “What did you talk to me about before I was pregnant?”.

So there is my ungrateful rant. I’ve already counted that there are 16 {or so} Sundays left before the baby gets here. I’ll just have to mentally prepare, pray and start taking deep breaths before church {I guess you should probably do 2 out of those 3 anyway}. After all that, I’ll find a back entrance to hide my ballooning self and waddle on in; I’m sure that’s just what Jesus would do.

Has anybody else every felt this way?
Am I being completely horrible? {I realize all these people love our family and it's not so bad to be surrounded by them}
And do you think they make T-shirts that, “Yes, I’m aware I’m pregnant. I'm due at the end of July. I feel fine.” that would be appropriate church attire?