The whole world is a pointy object. Knives and glass and arrows and long finger nails. I found myself heading towards my doctor’s appointment with my hands around my stomach. My coat, despite the winter, is thinner in material because it is large and lets me breathe. And because of my choice in outer wear, I do not feel supported nearly enough.
I worry I will trip on the train platform and fall on my stomach. Or that some woman with long nails will poke my belly button with her pointed umbrella or Carrie Bradshaw shoe (“Single White Female” anyone?)
I worry the conductor will close the train on me and slice my bulk in half or that someone will punch me. (It happened last month. It’s a weird story. A stranger punched me in the stomach and ran. Sadly.)
Truth is? My concerns are normal.
I know they are because so many women tell me so. It’s some kooky, maternal, mama bear thing or something like that.
Yesterday, on the bus (after the train), no one gave me a seat to sit in. Normally I am the one to give up my seat. But yesterday, I was hoping for a return favor. I was exhausted and the bus was crowded with nails and umbrellas and elbows and rudeness. I held on for dear life, hovering over a teenage girl who snapped her gum and told me to, “Back the fuck up.”
I said, “Can’t. VERY pregnant.” She looked out of her window, pissed off, not because she felt guilty but because she didn’t have a response and still found I was hovering over her. There was NO WHERE for me to “back the fuck up” to. Wall to wall people, surrounded by plexi-glass and the smell of Chicken McNuggets.
Who was I to these people anyway? I was a fellow passenger on the same public transport they took. We all paid our two dollars.
I’m just some passenger. From being told I was, “infertile” until this very moment, as I type this.
It’s no bad thing, really. But not being in the control of a driver’s seat takes courage and will and well, gumption. Bravery. Don’t you agree? We are all passengers with our wants of a child. And we can’t steer that wheel sometimes.
We just have to go with what we have and what we know and hope to attain more than what we have and learn more of what we know. It means being open minded. And being a lady. Or a gentleman. And having a little faith in ourselves.
So, borrowing from Iggy Pop (and later, Siouxie Sioux) in the ethereal song, “Passenger”:
I am a passenger
I stay under glass
I look through the window so bright
I see the stars come out tonight
I see the bright and hollow sky
Over the city’s rip in the sky
And everything looks good tonight….
And everything was made for you and me
And all of it was made for you and me
‘Cause it just belongs to you and me
Singing’
La la la la la la la la la laaaaa laaaaaaaaa 
MFK
