The Preggers Club

One thing I have noticed since becoming pregnant, is that as soon as it becomes public knowledge that you are knocked up or it becomes visually obvious, you gain automatic acceptance into the "Preggers Club". This club meets anywhere at anytime and the members are not always obvious to the naked eye - they come from all walks of life but the common threads that weave this procreational tapestry together is advice and the slightly humiliating questions.

Case in point-as soon as everyone at work found out the good news, I was instantly more popular than I have ever been. Everyone smiles at me as I huff and puff up the stairs to my classroom and I get asked at least 25 times a day how I am doing, how I am sleeping, how hot I am (temperature wise), etc. The crankier I am, the more pleased everyone else is. The less sleep I have, the more rejuvenated the rest of the world is. I am not saying I don't like the attention, because deep down I do and I would probably be pissed off if I was ignored and didn't get a couple of good belly rubs a day in. This is the good part of the club.

The rather annoying part I find is not the endless advice (since this is baby #1, I am all ears), but the questions. I don't mind people I have some sort of a close relationship with asking me personal questions but the ones I get from people I either don't know or barely know blows me away. There are certain things about my hoo-hoo I don't really want to reveal to any but a chosen few. Being asked about hemorrhoids, discharge, my breasts and other fun things, is not my topic of choice with many but apparently this is part of the no questions barred membership policy. Did I mention that there was no choice in joining this club?

Last but not least, my number one pregnancy pet peeve are the inevitable "sunshine-club-eternally-enthralled-with-pregnancy" members. These people, who after asking me how I am making out and I give an honest answer, always smile condescendingly and reply that they had a wonderful pregnancy, loved every minute of it, where never sick, were in labour for only 8 minutes and would love to be pregnant again. I used to look rather astonished and then sort of back track that maybe I didn't really feel that bad and then make sure I said out loud how much I really wanted a baby, etc. Now, I tell all of my tales of woe to these people because I know they enjoy countering with a perfect pregnancy tale. For example, I will "let it slip" that I am addicted to my anti-nausea meds that I am still taking even though I am seven months pregnant. I would crush these tablets, grow out my pinky fingernail and snort these pills if I thought it would help. The sunshines give me a pity smile and talk about how they were never sick for a moment. Then I usually tell the story of when I was packing my bag for work on the dining room table one morning, I threw up so quickly and violently my breakfast that the dogs gobbled it up before I could even wipe my mouth. Anyway, you get the point.

As inconvenient as the club can be, I am secretly pleased to belong. I can't wait until I rise to the upper ranks after having my child and can become one of the elders and can then impart cryptic Yoda-like wisdom to all newcomers. Until then, I must endure these nine months as a fledgling mother to be.