A nice and healthy-looking baby bump is often one of the aesthetic perks of being pregnant. I mean, you could say we deserve it after all the nausea, fatigue and general aches and pains most of us endure in the first trimester and beyond. But like many things in pregnancy, a textbook bump can’t be ignored.
My babies both grew on the smaller side, and one of the things I became very aware of throughout my pregnancy was the size of my bump and what that meant for my babies. I love the round, uncomfortable-looking bump that not only looks appropriately pregnant, but usually—and most assuredly—indicates healthy growth.
I long for my belly to grow, sometimes even pushing it to try to capture the physical essence of pregnancy, I see so many women with pride. But instead, my reality is that in both of my pregnancies I grew a small lump that seemed to oscillate between looking like I’d really enjoyed lunch and appearing weeks earlier in my pregnancy than I actually was. it’s me I loved being pregnant, but my little bumps reminded me every day that something might be wrong with my baby and I didn’t accept the visual memo.
The challenges that not everyone sees
The growth of the small lump was particularly difficult in my first pregnancy because my son was tracking in the 1st percentile in utero. At first, doctors warned me that this precious little baby of mine could either be stillborn or face challenges related to growth restriction. Because of this, I became more aware of my own size.
I was constantly investigating what I could have done wrong to cause my baby to grow so poorly inside, including blaming myself for how my bump looked on the outside. It went beyond meaninglessness and into a space of fear and anxiety as I pondered the fate of my pregnancy.
Then the comments started pouring in.
Conversations I don’t want to have
Well-meaning friends who told me my first bump was ‘cute’ made me uncomfortable.
On more than one occasion these comments have led to difficult conversations that I didn’t want to have. Sometimes I correct them by joking that it’s not ‘cute’ (I’d rather have a big bump covered in marks, thank you very much). Other times I get angry and thank them wholeheartedly for what I think is intended as a compliment that comes from a place of love and excitement. Some women like to look cute, sure, and I like that too, but not when I’m carrying a potentially unhealthy baby in my little bump.
Also, some babies grow on the bigger side, and this can also contribute to the size of the bump. These women may also feel that they too are not providing enough for their baby, with some feeling ashamed that they are carrying too much. Imagine how they feel when someone tells them they are carrying twins because of the size of their bellies. Probably the same way I do when people point out that I don’t look pregnant.
When it comes to commenting on other people’s bumps, it’s like society suddenly has a medical degree—but please know that moms just don’t want to hear from you about bump size unless you, well, have a medical degree.
Little bump, little baby
I’d like to say that the size feedback stops at the mother, but it doesn’t. Once my first child was born, I enjoyed the typical ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ of the adoring audience. Yes, my baby is beautiful, thanks for noticing (but don’t touch him; he’s still small).
But when strangers started guessing her age and putting her in the newborn category when she was close to 3 months, I started to panic. Do they know something I don’t, or are they just used to seeing babies born in the land of 7 lbs full term instead of 2 lbs, 11 oz 8 weeks premature?
People have told me that my son is ‘dinky’, ‘tiny’, a ‘little dot’. What they don’t know is that I’m obsessed with growth charts and starting discussions with my son’s pediatrician about high-calorie diets. I feel frustrated; guilty that I couldn’t breastfeed and exhausted from a grueling schedule that demanded strict three-hour feedings and the logistics that came with it. Bottle feed for 45 minutes, pump for 45 minutes, rinse, repeat. It’s not about how she looks, or what people think. It’s the added pressure these unsolicited comments put on a mother who can’t escape conversations about size.
Here we go again
With my second pregnancy, I was worried that I would experience a similar journey to my first. Since my first pregnancy was considered high risk, this naturally played on my mind. My second bump was the same size.
From the earliest stages, I looked for signs of growth. I ran my hands over my lump, wondering what was going on there and hoping that things would be different this time.
Again, I had no problem bonding with the baby inside me and I was so grateful for the privilege of pregnancy, but at the same time I was afraid that the size of my lump represented a red flag. Short of buying an ultrasound machine for my house, tracking my lump for what it looks and feels like seems like the easiest, most tangible way I can assess my baby’s well-being. I am desperate for hints and confidence.
When I started revealing our pregnancy and sharing bump photos, I once again started to attract familiar anecdotes around the size of my bump. Here we go again, I thought, as the comments brought me back to where I was three years ago. I felt triggered because even though things started off better this time, I remembered how quickly things can change in any pregnancy.
Eventually, bump two will grow—and so will my baby!—but they’ll both stay on the smaller side. And so the comments continued.
What does ‘healthy’ look like
Knowing that your children are healthy is such a great comfort, but not all mothers have this perspective when they carry them. Without realizing it, public commentary can play on our existing insecurities and make pregnancy more complicated and fragile.
The truth is that some people just make small babies and carry them in small lumps. Others make large babies and carry them in large lumps.
Neither necessarily indicates that their baby’s health is compromised. However, if it is part of a package that includes medical conversations about having an unhealthy small or large baby, comments about the size of the lump can be particularly offensive and even harmful. And if the pregnancy is progressing well, the comments can still be judgmental for so many personal reasons.
How to sensitively talk about the size of the bump
We don’t want to censor discussions about pregnancy to such an extent that friends and family are afraid to comment on a baby bump. What we need is a reminder to be aware of this. We won’t always know the backstory about someone’s pregnancy, so good old-fashioned empathy has to come into play, no matter how close you are. Remember that this is a woman carrying a child—and doing her best to keep them healthy.
Instead of starting a conversation about the size of a girl’s bump, why not tell her she’s beautiful or comment about what an amazing mother she’s going to be? It can make a pregnant woman feel good about herself, but remember that anything that directly refers to size can be misleading, especially if you’re having a difficult pregnancy.
One of my personal favorites is hearing ‘pregnancy looks good on you’, and comments like this suit women of all shapes and sizes of lumps.
As with many things in pregnancy, a sweet, textbook bump cannot be ignored. But wouldn’t it be nice if kindness and sensitivity could be done? It’s about being considerate, considerate and respectful. This applies to all of us, whether we stand in their shoes or not, because we don’t know what someone is going through in their life—or their bumps.
