I had an awesome conversation with a pregnant person whom I’d just met this weekend. She asked when I was due, and then IMMEDIATELY asked if I was having a natural birth in such an accusatory tone that I felt like I was twelve being scolded by my mom. Oh, um, hi, my name is Betsy. I have a husband, two dogs, and two cats. I like long walks on the beach and candle lit dinners. I DON’T KNOW YOU, why are you asking me this?
The 5+ seconds it took me to recover and muster-up an answer were not a big enough clue that I was a taken aback. I answer, and crack a joke (because that’s what I do when I’m uncomfortable) to the other (much less invasive) person sitting next to me. Laugh, laugh, laugh, avoid eye contact with invasive pregnant lady, and hope the conversation ends. “Well, I………..” Oh geez, I strap myself in for awesomeness. She goes on to explain IN DETAIL about how she wants to avoid a C-section (um, don’t we all?), how she WAS delivering at Henrico’s Doctor’s Hospital but NOW she’s delivering at MCV because HDH has SUCH a high c-section rate. She told me about her sucky old doctor who didn’t answer her questions and just wanted to get her in and out of his office, and raved about her awesome new mid-wives. There's more, but I'll spare you the onslaught. After she had unloaded her unsolicited fill, she asked, “So, where are you delivering?” DROP BOMB: Henrico Doctor’s Hospital. AWKWARD.
Does she back down? NO. She doesn’t even flinch. I explain that I love my doctor, and that I trust him. I tell her about how I’ve had an ultrasound every time I’ve gone in (and I’ve only been charged for two). OH REALLY?!?! Yes, my doctor is warm and fuzzy, he answers all of my questions, and I’ve never felt like he was rushing to get through our appointment. He also said he could deliver my anywhere in the area, but we decided HDH is closest and most convenient. And then I say something along the lines of, “How I deliver is out of my hands (as in, it’s in God’s hands).” WHAT?!?! “My delivery is out of my hands.” HUH?!?! “My delivery is in God’s hands.” OH. Conversation ends.
What is it about pregnancy that makes people poke and prod and offer copious amounts of unsolicited advice? The advice part isn’t so bad. Babies make people excited, and they want to help. I get totally get it. It’s when someone questions me in a competitive (almost accusatory), I’m better than you manner that makes me ANGRY. I prefer to be wooed prior to such invasive conversations. Maybe I’m needy, but can’t we just snuggle first?
To quote one of my favorite people, “She was so NOT awesome.”
I want a shirt that says:
I’m due in September.
I feel GREAT.
It’s a Boy.
His name is Liam Axel.
My birth plan is NOYB (none of your business) because I don’t know you.
Don’t touch, my husband bites.
Mondays make me cranky, can you tell? And we stayed-up WAY too late (11 PM, crazy) last night watching a movie. It was commercial free, score! Pregnant, tried, cranky, HOT Betsy- WATCH OUT WORLD.