Overall the day was fine, but I'm becoming increasingly stressed out about the unknowns at work, and the stress of figuring out the logistical and financial ramifications of putting 2 kids in daycare (and before saying "well, just stay home!", there are many layers to the decision of my choosing to still work, so please don't go there).
On top of the general stress of the whole daycare and work unknowns, I also am apprehensive about the additional doctors appointments. I believe that I am doing remarkably well in my ability to publicly handle these situations in stride, but internally, I have been bottling up a lot of things for the sake of being thankful.
Many thanks to those who supported me at work today - it's not my nature to cry, so I greatly appreciate not treating me like a hormonal pregnant woman.
Anywho, I left work at 1 for my doctor's appointment, which thankfully everything was fine today. "Fine" and "Great" are words we want to hear after these tests, because if they were not one of these two words, it's hospital observation and/or induction, so every time I have the test I'm mentally preparing myself to be hospitalized. It's exhausting.
I left the doctor, and am grateful that I have until at least Friday (my next appointment) before I begin to feel those feelings of apprehension. I needed to grab some batteries, so I stopped by Von's to grab some.
First, I couldn't find them, so I happened to pick up Little Debbie Swiss Rolls because pfft, they happened to be there. I found the batteries, and hopped in line.
The checker was in her low 60's (maybe upper 50's?), and very talkative with the person in front of me. I am tired, so I know that I have the "pregnant lady vacant tired" face on, so I smile at her and ask how she was doing when she turned to me.
What happened next has not happened to me, and I wasn't quite sure how to react.
This woman (who was really very nice, and I think genuinely excited) squeeled. Not the little girl giggly type of squeel, but the oh my gosh who just drove the car into the grocery store type of squeel. It echoed and I'm just wide eyed and surprised at what happened. Here is the conversation that followed:
[Literally, people were looking at us. I just smiled at her.]
Cashier: Oh my gosh, you are about to give birth. I can feel it.
Me: We're getting there! I still have a little less than 7 weeks left.
Cashier: No. You're lying.
Me: [Insert kind laugh here] Nope, it's the truth. I'm due at the end of July.
Cashier: Then there HAS to be two in there. [Turns to middle age man next in line] Don't you think that she looks like she has two in there?!
Middle Age Guy: [Looking uncomfortable] Yeah, she does.
Cashier: SEE?! You better get another ultrasound because I am positive that there are two. You can't be that big with 7 weeks to go.
Me: Aww, nope - we're pretty sure there's only one.
Cashier: [Ringing up my 2 items] I think you should get another one. How are you surviving this heat? You just look so tired and worn out. Do you need help out?
Me: [I smile] Oh, no, I think I have it. Thank you for your help! Have a good day.
Cashier: You too! [As I am walking away, she says loudly - ] Oh, look at how she's walking, poor woman! She's just too big to still be 7 weeks away.
Literally, that is word for word what happened. I...I just couldn't believe it. Let's break this down:
I was kind to her, because really, she was just so excited for me. I love when people can celebrate and be excited! I don't like what other words come with the excitement, though.
She was SO LOUD. People were looking at us, looking at my stomach and giving me the "awww" look, and I was really, really uncomfortable. I look terrible, and I am so emotionally and physically tired.
I understand that I may look larger - but trust me, there is only one in there. I have 2 ultrasounds a week to make sure my kid is still LIVING, so I am pretty sure that I know that there is just one. I really don't need another one.
Please don't talk to random dude behind me about my size. I already feel self conscious and ugly and useless, I don't need some random guy's peanut gallery comment! I actually felt sorry for the guy, because he looked reallly uncomfortable. No matter what he said, it was a no win situation.
Can't I just walk away with my Swiss Rolls and batteries and go on with my day?! No. I now have to hear about how big I am and how I'm walking weird. The whole thing made me feel like this:
Sigh. I'm not even mad...just bewildered. You couldn't make this crap up, and of course it happens to me. Thank goodness she was behind the counter or I am sure she would have tried to touch me, which probably would have resulted in me leaving without my items and crying in my car (I'm having more and more issues with people in my personal space and touching me. I mean, ask first, I may be ok with it, but just random touching freaks me out.)
I just think about how happy she was...and then all the other verbal vomit that came out of her mouth. I mean, what do I say? Do I say "Don't speak about my baby!" or "Don't refer to my size or the way I walk!". I will probably say that to people that I interact with (regarding the walking especially), but she was part of my life for 5 minutes. Just plaster a smile on and move on. Too bad I was the center of freaking attention (when I just wanted SWISS ROLLS AND BATTERIES!) where everyone gave me that "aww, I feel sorry for you" look. That look makes me feel like this:
So, that's my vent. I feel all kinds of worn out, so I think laying in bed for the rest of the night is deserved. I hope Naomi will cuddle with me.