Privacy

I’ve mentioned before that I surrendered all of my rights to privacy when I became a mother, and I’m certain that I do not stand alone. This loss of privacy for me began before my firstborn even took his first breath of stagnant hospital air.

Sharing one’s uterus is anything but private. Stirrups and sexual history questions at the OBGYN’s office defy the very definition of privacy. And there’s something about a bun in the oven that opens the door to a whole new world of questions and behaviors that would be considered downright appalling if directed at a non-pregnant woman.

An encounter with a stranger in the grocery store checkout line may start off innocently with appropriate questions such as “How far along are you? Do you know what it is? Is this your first?” In a blink of the eye, this alien person is asking if you’re ripe and dilated, offering episiotomy suggestions and inquiring about nipple size all while massaging your enlarged belly. For some peculiar reason, asking a complete foreigner about the status of her cervix and violating her personal space isn’t crossing the etiquette line if she’s with child.

This is just a glimpse of what life on the other side of motherhood will be like. Maybe due to the subconscious realization that privacy is a thing of the past, most women, oddly enough, embrace this unfamiliar territory and begin to willingly offer way too much information when talking birthing stories and post-partum leaking. From here on out, private matters no longer exist in a world filled with diapering, breastfeeding, bathing, incontinence (for the unfortunate ones!), and potty training. Many, many months can pass, and just when privacy starts to peek its tiny head out from behind the clouds, BAM! Pregnant again...and the entire process starts over.

It’s nearly impossible to even imagine, but someday I will regain this privacy that I speak about. Until then, I’ll continue to have an audience for nearly everything I do.

For example, I decided to take a bath while E was napping. I put on a TV show for J, but soon he was comfortably seated on the bathroom countertop discussing tsunamis and other natural disasters. Mid-discussion, he jumped up and closed the door. He assumed his position back on the countertop and before resuming the conversation, he stated, “Now you can have some privacy, Mom.”

This is the same child that politely asks me to turn around and face the disgustingly filthy wall of a public restroom stall because he desires a little privacy while he does his business. Classic irony, don't you think?