Moratorium: “a suspension of activity.”
I am not pregnant.
I am not going to be pregnant again. Ever.
(And while I know that miracles do happen, this is not a miracle I am actively seeking! If/when Jeff and I add to our family, we plan on fostering, and we would LOVE your prayers for this new venture.)
You see, on two separate occasions recently I have been asked those dreaded questions that no woman ever wants to hear, unless she is literally about to give birth…
“Are you pregnant?” – asks rather excited woman, pointing to my stomach region
“NO.” – says me, trying to stay matter-of-fact about the whole situation
Then I just love the follow-up to question #1…
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I am very sure.” – says me, wondering why I am now having to defend my lack-of-pregnancy
Because here’s the deal…I have had two babies, who are now 7 and 4.
I love them like I cannot even begin to describe.
They are gifts from God to me.
I am, however, still waiting for my gift of a flat stomach.
One day (read: heaven) I will have a new body, and I know it will be better than this pre-stretched out one that I have to contend with.
Until then, I am thinking of wearing a button that says…
“I’m pudgy, not pregnant. Thanks for not asking.”
For the sake of clarity, I repeat, I am not pregnant, and, yes, I am sure.
Please feel free to spread this news around. Don’t be shy.