Anyone who has ever been the full-blown, full-term, 9 months pregnant, and desperate to pop, understands that in those final days, the list of people you hate far outweighs the list of those you love. Suddenly, everyone and their mother, has something to say about your condition, and rarely is it the simple, “Bless your heart, I’ll be praying for you.” No, no. Those women, we love.
These are the women we abhor, and these are the responses they should know are running through our heads…and occasionally out of our mouths:
“You haven’t had that baby yet?”
It’s a lose/lose. Because 1. I’m probably still pregnant and ready to kill the next person who asks.
Or worse, I had him 3 weeks ago and you think I still look pregnant, in which case, consider yourself dead. Not ha ha you’re so dead, dead. Like, seriously, I’ll stop your heart.
“When are you due?”
We just met and you’re curious. I get it. Just, don’t. You can refer to Captain Obvious for why not.
“Whatever you do, get an epidural. And drugs! Always take the drugs.”
Stop freaking me out, dammit. And of course I’ll take the drugs.
The Au Naturel
“You’re not gonna get an epidural, are you? And certainly, no drugs. Be one with the labor. Embrace the labor. Become the labor.”
Welcome to my wide-eyed slow nod as I back away from you, freak.
“So, how much weight have you gained?”
Enough to where I could decisively body slam you into the ground. Wanna see?
“Whatever you do, don’t let the searing pain of mastitis stop you from breastfeeding your baby. I’ve nursed 2 babies, so I’m like, practically a lactation consultant, so if you have any questions, call me.”
Let’s start with what the hell is the searing pain of mastitis?
The Fortune Teller
“She’s gonna come early. Mine always did.”
Well, thank goodness my body will perfectly follow the lead of yours.
“Ha. You’ve still got at least 2 more weeks to go.”
Your mouth is suddenly directly connected to my can of whoop-ass. I recommend you keep ‘em both closed for your own safety.
“Hopefully, you have him on my birthday!”
Guaranteeing that on that particular day, I’ll lay in bed with my legs tightly crossed, because come hell or high water, I won’t give you that satisfaction.
The Knows Somebody Who Knows Somebody
“My cousin’s best friend’s sister’s nephew’s wife is due on the same day!”
Well, that is so extra special, please excuse me while I go try to drum up a tear in my eye.
“That’s an odd name for a baby.”
Oh, I’m sorry. Did I accidentally state what I'm naming my baby in the form of a question? My bad.
The Dooms Day-er
“Be careful not to eat so much these days…you could go into labor and increase your odds of pooping on the delivery table.”
You just increased your odds of having my middle finger flipped behind your back as you walk away.
“Remember, the more weight you gain, the harder it will be to get back off.”
Maybe you’ve forgotten the pain of a swift and accurate throat jab.
Let me remind you…
The Knows It ALL
“I’ll tell you everything you’re going to experience through the delivery process, explain the benefits of a home birth, the art of breastfeeding, the importance of allowing the child to self-wean regardless of his age, instructions on getting him to sleep through the night, the concept of natural planning birth control, and introduce you to the idea of home schooling.”
Ok, you have a total of one kid and he’s two. How ‘bout you let me experience my first contraction before you try to turn me into a Duggar.
“You’re only two days overdue? I was FOUR days overdue. You have no idea.”
Well, for all we know, I’m gonna be pregnant for three more days and then my five days overdue is gonna kick your four day’s ass…and I don’t even care that I sound like a total lunatic right now, because you started it.
“Don’t let the doctor induce you, and don’t use disposable diapers, and don’t supplement with formula...don’t, don’t, don’t.”
I’m sorry. Who do you think you are, again?
“Oh, I was just in the area, so I thought I’d stop by to see if you’ve had that baby yet.”
Well, good thing I haven’t, because anyone who unexpectedly knocks on this door and wakes my newborn will subject themselves to my post-partum rage, and that’s a defense that will stand up in court.
“Make sure you text me the minute you go into labor!”
You can expect to the birth announcement on Facebook along with my other 657 closest friends.
“So…what’d the doctor say today? Dilated? Effaced? Any updates I can text my family and friends would be ever so appreciated…”
Nope. Nothin’. Nada.
But the worst people…I mean the people who can invoke a level of rage like none other…are quite possibly the very people in your inner most circle. Your “we’re all pregnant together, due the same time, and our babies will be BFF’s forever” friends…until they’re admitted into the hospital to have their baby on the very day you’re sent home for the 3rd time with Braxton Hicks that you swear you couldn’t walk or talk through.