When The Pregnancy Wave at Work Becomes a Freekin' Tsunami

This week's new post: "Do You Know Your Infertility Doctor as Well as She Knows You? No, That Would Be Inappropriate" is located at the Fertility Authority website. Please visit: http://fertilityauthority.com/blogger/1013368And, before you click over, please see about my ebook to the right there. $2.99 and Free at the Kindle Library. For all Kindles and IPads, Smartphones, etc with Free Kindle apps. Reviews from top fertility doctors @icon to the right. More reviews & chapter previews www.amazon.com/dp/B007G9X19A

It’s especially tough dealing with infertility when you work at a place chockfull of child-bearing age females. (Having coworkers who are going through menopause is okay as long as you don’t let them sit near the thermostat.)

At work, it seems that some fertile chippy always starts that pregnancy wave going. You could work there for two years and no babies. Then all of a sudden, every Monday someone else comes in and says: “Guess what?” or even worse: “Did you hear who’s pregnant? Oh that’s last week’s news. I’m talking about who else is pregnant.”

You long for the good old days when someone would come in bright and early after a weekend bursting with: “Guess which manager I saw drunk off her butt doing karaoke alone in a parking lot two blocks away from the bar?!”

But once that pregnancy wave starts at work, the Monday morning scenarios continue to spiral downward. If you happen to work with a woman from one of the lower echelons, she may follow her new pregnancy announcement with the ceremonially lifting up of her shirt so you can take a peek at her expanding belly button ring. Then far worse things take place.

Suddenly there are no bosses or employees; no supervisors or underlings. Only old mommies and new mommies. Those who hated each other’s guts up until and including last Friday at 5 PM start bonding. (They all have morning sickness, and I’m the only one retching at my desk.)

Instead of reading Cosmo (which probably contributed to their predicament), mommy magazines and “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” are being shared. So beautiful. Like one big sixties commune with sisterly love in the air instead of the smell of weed. (Which for some reason always smells like burning pork to me.)

I’m never sure if people are thoughtless or just oblivious to the fact that everyone might not be overjoyed to hear their pregnancy news and baby talk. I really think it’s the latter.

Truth be told, I'm no better. If I’m excited about something that’s happening to me, I’ll run to tell you, totally unimpeded by the fact that I know you won’t give a flying.... I’d like for you to be excited for me, but if you’re not, I’ll just move on and keep telling people until I find someone who is.

My list usually proceeds in the following descending order: Husband, sister, sister-in-law, close friends, semi-friends, people I see every day whose names I don’t know, people who wouldn’t recognize me without pigtails and missing front teeth, and celebrities on twitter.

If I still find no takers, that’s okay. The news will come full circle back to me and I’ll be excited for myself all over again.

Worse than the weekly new pregnancy announcements were the knowing looks in my direction that followed each one: “So what about you? Huh, huh?” Nudge nudge, wink wink, elbow elbow.

Or questions like: “How long have you been married now?” “Three years and a week.” “How long have you been married now?” “Three years and a week and a half.” Believing that conception is contagious, I found myself hanging around the pregs all day. Why not? When they had the flu I always caught it.

My plan was fool-proof. Sure I was stalking these women. Let me be clear: Stalking’s not okay. But snacking and stalking are socially acceptable.

A preg would have a sandwich in the kitchen. I’d have a sandwich, fries and a milkshake in the kitchen. They’d have a mid-morning yogurt at their cubicle, I’d have a mid-morning box of Dunkin’ munchkins at their cubicle. Hey, they were eating for two and so was I. I had myself and my bitter hatred to feed.

Join us next week if you dare, when we tackle the dreaded cheesy baby showers at work. And please consider purchasing my humor ebook about my own personal journey through the infertility trenches. It's $2.99 USD and Free at the Kindle Library. Readable on all Kindles and Smartphones, iPads etc with Free Kindle App. (Reviews at http://licthebook.com (icon to the right) & www.amazon.com/dp/B007G9X19A)