You must be this tall to ride this ride

I started this school year being one of 4 women who are expecting (and when I say "expecting", I'm sure we all know I'm talking about having a baby and not some other weird thing like, expecting to have pasta for dinner or something...although, pasta for dinner does sound pretty good. Sorry, I need to focus. Back to my story). The first woman, Megan, was due in September, the next woman, Rachel, is due in November, Heidi is due in January, and I am due in February. This situation created a special bond between us  as we shared our stories with each other and talked excitedly about the movements of our mini tenants(or, at least I think it brought us all a little closer. Screw them if they don't feel the same way!). As Megan's due date approached, I found myself checking the parking lot each day to see if she had made it in to work or if there would be a message on the office white board announcing her absence and reporting the birth her baby. Finally, the day came when her car wasn't in the parking lot. I excitedly entered the building and saw the message that she had, in fact, had a beautiful baby girl. I happily smiled and talked about the happy event with my coworkers.

And that's when it happened. As I sat there thinking about Megan and her family's newest little member, it occured to me that now there are only 3 of us still waiting to have babies. Suddenly, I was overcome with that same sense of fear...nay, TERROR, that I had at the end of my first ultrasound. Have I not told that story? Ok, here it goes. We had our first ultrasound relatively early on in the pregnancy with the purpose being, essentially, to verify that it appears to be a viable pregnancy and not something else (e.g. an ectopic pregnancy or bad tuna). In that first appointment, the tech happily showed us the first images of our little bundle who, at that time, just looked like my breakfast or some other thing that was sitting in my belly region. The only reason I actually believed that what she was showing me was actually another person and not the remnants of a bagel was that this little lump of grey matter had a distinct hearbeat. That really made it clear to me that there is, in fact, another person in there. As Nicole and I walked down the hall to head out of the hospital I felt my first wave of terror emanating from the all too real issue that this heartbeat was going to grow into a mini-me that was then going to make its grand entrance via my...my...oh, it even pains me to say it...my vagina, my hoochie, my choch, my pooter, my...perhaps I should stop there as I have many other names for it, but I'm not sure what the age group is that's reading this out there. So, yes, the terror set in at that point for the first time in my pregnancy. As that realization slapped me in the face like a dead fish wrapped around a cinder block, I actually froze in my tracks which caused Nicole to turn around and worriedly ask what was the matter. When I explained the birthing process and how that thought was now directly responsible for contorting my facial features, she was so supportive with a reply of "It's a little late to think about that now, isn't it" and capped off this ever so comforting statement with small chuckle. Funny, but that moment also marked the first wave of hormones rushing through me as I felt the overwhelming urge to punch her square in the gut. In what would be the first moment of many, I restrained myself and, instead, simply resumed walking to the car.

Now, with Megan having had her baby, I was again hit with that wave of terror. Only this time, it was a bit more intense and as I looked around at my co-workers, I spotted that same look of terror fueled by realization in Rachel, the poor sap who's next on the list to have a very tiny person mistake the most sensitive parts of her anatomy for an emergency exit. In my sudden shell shocked state, I went up to her and tried to explain what I was feeling which is what I will do for you all now. Essentially, it kind of feels like going to an amusement park and being super mega excited to ride a new rollercoaster. You wait in line and talk with your friends about how awesome it's going to be and everyone gets more excited by the minute, and then, as your turn gets closer and you can actually see people getting into the cars, hear the clicks and clacks of the ride, and the screams from the poor saps at the top of the first crest, you suddenly realize you HATE rollercoasters and that they scare the crap out of you (which I hear actually happens during childbirth!). As you stand in line surrounded by all these other people who have already been on the ride before and, for some reason yet unknown to me, have actually voluntarily gotten in line to ride it again, you try to figure out your exit strategy..."Maybe I can fake being sick and I can't go on the ride" or "Maybe I can fake being too short to qualify for the ride" and then you see the faces of those around you and you know they are thinking, "Just suck it up and get on the ride! Stop being a pansy!" The only problem is all of these people who have already gone on the ride are LYING!!!! They maybe liked how they felt after they got off of the ride, but when they were being dropped from 5 stories in the air, none of them can tell me they didn't feel sick and weren't trying to figure out how to get the hell off the ride in one piece! So, as I'm sure Megan is now enjoying the after effects of the ride, I am still trying to figure out how to fake being too short to ride the coaster. I'm a little worried, though, because I don't think I can pull that one off. I just hope the poor sap who has to sit next to me during the ride (Nicole) is prepared for my kicking, crying, screaming, digging my nails into the safety restraints (aka her hands, arms, or any other part of her body I may be able to grab on to...she may need some personal protective equipment like from a bomb squad or something), and potential return to booting. Hmmm...Perhaps she should wear a rain poncho...