To anybody who lives in Oxford, Mississippi or for some reason just happens to come in contact with Kelly Rice over the next four or five weeks, please do me a favor by keeping your mouth shut. Suppress that urge to tell me what you think about the size of my belly, because I can assure you I do not want to hear that you think I am about to pop, or that he looks like he could come any day now, or that I have gotten so much bigger than the last time you saw me, which was only a day or two ago. Don't tell me you don't think I'm going to make it to my due date, or that my belly is much too large to be 34 weeks pregnant, or ask me if I'm having twins, or tell me I need to be eating healthier, or point out to me that I waddle. Yes, I do waddle. I know this. You do not have to tell me. I'm talking to the cashiers at Walmart, the lady that does our dry cleaning, the man at the post office, the girl who hands me my smoothies twice a week from a drive through window, the sweet ladies at the courthouse, the man who changed the bulb in my headlights, and the ignorant fraternity guys at Ole Miss who don't say a word, but just stare. Yes, people, there is a growing baby in me. I recognize this every second of every day. And for the next four to five weeks, it will continue to grow, which means I will continue to grow.
I also don't really care to hear your story either. The fact that you gained 15 pounds during your pregnancy doesn't interest me. I'm not that happy for you that you went to the gym every day of your pregnancy. I'm also not that happy for you that you lost all of your baby weight before you even left the hospital. I'm not that excited that you were only in labor for 5 minutes and you didn't feel a thing. I would rather not get any advice about the way you pushed your baby out, or what I need to do to lose ALL this weight that I've gained. I will figure it out on my own, thank you.
Now that you know, don't be surprised if I respond to your little comments like "You look like you're about to pop!" by saying "You do too!" Or if I punch you in the face when you tell me I'm going to have a huge baby. Just do what my husband does. He says "You look beautiful" and even though I always tell him to shut up and stubbornly refuse his compliment, words like those are very much appreciated. What matters the most (and what SHOULD matter the most) is that I feel great (minus the recent onset of severe back pain). I've enjoyed the past eight months and I'm positive that if it is God's will, I want lots of more babies, sooner than later. I'm perfectly fine with the way I look, and when I do need a self esteem boost, I just ask Aaron to give me a compliment, or I call my mom. Or I open up my Bible that has endless words of encouragement. Four or five more weeks is what I've been told by my doctor. There's a lot more pounds and inches to be added, and if I can just go another four or five weeks without hearing the opinions of those who think they are trying to help, I think we are all going to be okay.