Dear doctors who have been/will be treating treating me,
Please stop being so surprised when you touch, measure, feel, weigh, look at or talk to me. Look, girls don’t take kindly to surprised comments let alone medical observations. I know that when I answer the door and my friend says “Whoa, bad day?” that I’ve looked better. I know that when Cody comes home and says “Oof, you’re not doing so well are you?” I most certainly resemble a warm shade of death. So when I lie down on your medical table with my giant belly exposed and you mutter something about “Whoa! Well…” with your eyebrows raised as you turn and scribble something down in my chart?
Keep your expressions to yourself buddy.
Unless you’re going to finish that sentence with “Whoa…well you’re the most lovely pregnant lady I’ve ever had the pleasure of treating” I don’t want to hear it. Same goes for those weird questions like, “Sooo, do big heads run in your family?” I can only assume that I’ve suddenly become that golden goose for that medical study you’ve been working on for so long.
And I swear, if I get in that delivery room with my glory spread for this baby to come into the world and someone dares to utter any level of “Whoa!” in my general direction. I’m going to fight you. Or aim my placenta at you. Whatever.