It feels like not that long ago I was complaining about
having lunch with a pregnant co-worker (here).
She never came back to work after having the baby because while she was out on
maternity leave her husband’s job got reassigned and they moved away. She did
bring the baby in, but she works in another department and I only saw him when
walking past their office. The director of that same program was briefly
pregnant, but suffered a miscarriage just before her second trimester. Now,
there is a new male employee who is expecting his first child and this is all
that is discussed at lunch. He had mentioned they were going to start trying to
have a family at the beginning of the year and lo and behold, she is now almost
through her first trimester. And so our lunchtime topics range from her morning
sickness, her weight gain, baby names, and today, how large her breasts have
grown. Kill me, kill me now. Last Friday, after another round of baby talk, he
wished me a “sort of” mother’s day, you know, for my dogs and cats. Um, what?
Did you forget that I am a full-fledged card-carrying mother now? A co-worker
reminded him of the kids and he said, “Oh yeah. Right,” like he didn’t believe
I qualified. I think I need to find a new place to take lunch. I don’t think I
can stand months more of this blather and insensitivity.
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