I work in obstetrics. In the fetal evaluation unit. I see high risk pregnancies all day long. These women are not skipping down the hall whistling a jaunty tune. They are shuffling and puffing their way to the bathroom and back.
So you would think that people who work here would be a little more understanding of pregnancy. This morning I was greeted by the receptionist who asked me how it could be that I was the most miserable pregnant woman ever.
I think that might be an exaggeration. Although I’m sure I look a little on the miserable side. Let’s face it: I’m 35 pounds fatter with most of it being concentrated in the front of my body, I can’t find a bra that fits and holds everyone up leading to recurrent numbness and tingling in my side, I’ve had a cold for the past two weeks, I pee more than 10 times a day (I’ve started counting) and I can’t sleep at night. So yeah, I’m not miss Mary Sunshine. But you know what? I wasn’t a happy girl before I was pregnant. I just don’t do exuberant.
Having said all of that, I’m not saying that I’m sorry I did this. I was the one who wanted to have a baby. I understand that in order to have said baby you need to go through the pregnancy part of it. I’m not sorry or upset that it turns out there are two of them (I’ve gotten over the shock… for the most part…. for now….) I don’t even mind the mild to moderate discomfort that comes along. What I do mind is people telling me how it should be.
Look people, every pregnancy is different. Every person is different. It’s sure as hell different to carry around two babies as opposed to one. I don’t need to hear about your sister, niece, neighbor or even the nurse in L&D who was pregnant with twins, gained 15 lbs and worked until the night before her scheduled c-section. I don’t give a crap!
This is how I am. I am pissy. I’m pissy when the sun is shining and I’m eating ice cream, I’m pissy when it’s sleeting and I have to walk to the post office. I’m a pissy pissy person. I am not going to turn into some hallmark greeting card all due to the magic of gestation. And really, why do you care if I’m having a rip-roarin’ good time over here? Also, when was the last time you were pregnant? If the answer is never or more than 10 years, take one giant step backward and shove it up your ass.
I am now sitting in my office with the door closed. I think it’s the only way to avoid homicide allegations today.