Thursday, August 29, 2013


Yesterday I went to have some lab work done at my doctor's office. I had to drink this sugary orange drink and then wait an hour so they could take my blood and test for gestational diabetes.

After drinking ten ounces of what I can only assume was a melted Otter Pop, I settled into a chair in the waiting room and prepared for an hour of uninterrupted Candy Crush time.

About forty-five minutes in, a girl around my age sat down next to me and we started talking. At first it was just normal pregnant-lady small talk, but it quickly escalated into TMI territory.

Within the span of our five minute conversation, here are the things I learned about her, followed by my response in italics:
Our due dates are within a week of each other. 
Oh, cool! 
This is her second baby. 
Nice! My first. 
She's having a boy.

Congratulations! I'm having a girl.
She is having a scheduled c-section on November 22nd because she had an emergency c-section with her first boy.
Well that's convenient! ...and...sorry about the emergency c-section.
She is having her tubes tied immediately following the c-section.
Hey I mean while they're in there...might as well...
She DOES NOT want any more children. 
Yeah, we want four but I guess we'll see how this one goes first. 
Her sister has three boys and she is always running around like crazy.

Her best friend is also pregnant but she doesn't want the baby. She (the friend) only had her first baby in an attempt to save her marriage, and did not plan this second pregnancy. She has had 10 or 11 boyfriends during her marriage and her husband told her she was irresponsible for getting pregnant a second time.
Okay, up until she said that I had been kind of smiling and nodding along...but I'm pretty sure at this point my face was just sort of frozen somewhere between a deer in the headlights and...someone who unexpectedly found herself in the middle of an EXTREMELY AWKWARD CONVERSATION FOR WHICH SHE WAS CLEARLY NOT PREPARED.

Thank God my hour was up soon after that and it was time to have my blood drawn.

So, just to recap: getting stabbed in the arm with a needle = preferable to that conversation.

1 comment:

Ryan, Corrie, Max, and Jack said...

What does one even say to that last bit???? I mean, really. Where do you even start??