Giving birth sucks. I don’t have to tell you that. Every woman who’s done it has said some version of it.

As women, we attempt to prepare. Writing detailed birth plans. Sitting in birth classes with partners, the instructors talking through the objective facts (diaper changing, logging feeds, swaddling a distinctly un-wiggling, compliant baby doll) that don’t really sink in until you are there in the middle of the night, mind blank. Online hypnobirthing classes. Organizing the nursery that mostly sits empty for a long while after birth, as newborns are basically attached to mama in the first few weeks.

But nothing truly prepares you for birth. It’s not the products. Or the plans. Or even the knowledge. It’s who is there to hold you steady.

As is the case with many first-time moms, I struggled with anxiety. Looking back, my anxieties were so abstract… distant questions such as of the person my son would become, not necessarily the early stages of babyhood. What will it be like to raise a boy? Will I ensure he develops the intellectual and emotional skills he needs to have a happy and fulfilling life? Will I foster his development to ensure he becomes a steady partner? What if he wants to play football? As an occupational therapist, the idea of my son entertaining the thought of sustaining mini-TBIs repeatedly before he is legally allowed to vote terrifies me. My husband and I joke that most kids are scared to tell their parents they want to try out for the school play instead of football, not the other way around.

At my 20-week scan, my son measured slightly small, but my doctor was not very concerned. By 34 weeks, that had changed. They suspected FGR and strongly pushed for a 37-week induction. What I thought would be a routine appointment blindsided me; my husband Adam wasn’t there, and I found myself in tears walking through the lobby.

In the car, I immediately turned on myself: There are women here losing pregnancies, and you’re crying over a common, preventative procedure. You work in healthcare. What is wrong with you? But it wasn’t just the news, it was the realization that I had spent months worrying about abstract futures instead of appreciating the (suddenly fragile) reality that my son was healthy. I think a lot of us do this…minimize our own fear the second we realize someone else might have it worse. I now have compassion for my past self, and am working on allowing myself to feel feelings of loss without comparison to others.

FGR, I learned, meant my body might not be supplying him with adequate nutrients, and he could do better outside than in. I understood the logic. I was still scared. After frequent monitoring and many texts, the induction was ultimately canceled. My doctor was then absent for the remainder of my care, and his replacement often seemed overwhelmed (once even referencing the canceled induction as if it were still scheduled). I felt for her, but it reinforced what I already suspected: the health care system, especially here, prioritizes volume over continuity. I corrected her gently, and we moved on.

All this context sets up my birth, as I am convinced my son was in distress for multiple weeks leading up to his exit. The heart rate readings were deemed fine, but the staff had a hard time operating the equipment, so I was sometimes dubious how accurate the readings were outputting. But I am certain my son Ellis eventually decided he was ready to make his debut, and he was going to do it quickly.

In the early stages of my labor, I wasn’t sitting on a yoga ball or on all fours like the blissful British midwife recommended in my hypnobirthing course. I spent most of the first few hours standing, staring at the ceiling. I remember arching my back and grabbing my husband’s shirt to try to escape the pain, taking inhale after inhale after inhale (did I ever exhale?). Sitting was excruciating, standing was excruciating… I remember writhing and contorting to try to find any sort of relief but found none. I spent most of this time apologizing for some reason repeatedly, as if I was inconveniencing the staff at having to witness and deal with my pain. It was not until my epidural kicked in, that I was finally able to breathe and get onto the hospital bed. The pain was not gone, but it was no longer blinding.

I could finally utilize the comfort items my research had recommended I bring with me: Calcifer blankie (from Howls Moving Castle) lavender essential oil, and Adam’s phone playing instrumental jazz.

However, reader, the most important advice I can give you if you plan to have birth is to DESIGNATE long before your birth who you want in the room with you. Take no prisoners. If there is any doubt in your mind that your mom, or dad, or Aunt Linda, or sister, or grandma, or friend will not completely support you and decrease the burden birth will claw and gnash out of you, do not let them in the delivery room. Your birth is not a spectacle. It is not a party. It is not someone else’s milestone, or Facebook post, or anything else but the introduction of your baby to the world.

This fact is wholly underemphasized in preparing women for birth, and I am glad that my initial decision to include anyone in the room, but my husband was questioned and ultimately changed. Because undeniably, my husband Adam was instrumental at ensuring my son entered the world witnessing exactly what a partner should do for their wife during birth, and every other lifechanging obstacle they should face.

Believe it or not, despite the pain, I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t scared when the staff started flipping me every minute or so like a rotisserie chicken. I wasn’t scared when my son’s heart rate was constantly dropping/spiking/dropping/spiking. Because he wasn’t. He stood to the left of me, holding my hand and counting my breathing aloud. He did not sit or leave the room for the entire 9 hours. That steadiness didn’t start in the delivery room. It started years earlier. He set a foundation for this loving trust that was built long before this September morning.

In an almost cosmic force of magnetism, I was able to single out and latch onto the nerdiest individuals in my cohort of OT students within the first few weeks. The first was a tall redhead named Gabi whose roommate had just started a Dungeons and Dragons campaign and was looking for players; the first night we met, I felt an immediate kinship to her as if we had already been friends for quite some time. The other was a quiet blonde with glasses, who I also felt immediately at ease with who was interested in trying DND out. He was attractive, male, sweet, and nerdy? My immediate reaction was to file him away as “taken” or “gay” until I had received evidence otherwise, or else I would surely encounter disappointment.

We had both moved from our respective home states to, coincidentally, the same sketchy apartment complex. This proximity gave my 22-year-old self the courage to suggest we carpool to game night every Friday at our mutual new OT school classmate’s apartment. Adam had never played, so I took it upon myself to mentor him… we needed a healer, so I got to work helping him build his cleric.

Now, one thing I did not expect to meet in OT school was my future husband. Occupational therapy is a very female-dominated field, and I had resolved that it was near-impossible to meet a single, attractive man in person. However, my experiences with online dating went about as well as it does for many people—horribly. Tinder, Bumble, Hinge… I had tried them all, with results ranging from unsuccessful but amusing one-offs to the quintessential crying on the bathroom floor. Thus, my expectations were low. Obviously, I cannot summarize the entirety of our 7-year relationship, but I want to emphasize how I knew Adam was the logical selection for best partner and future father of my children.

Our relationship suffered a rocky start. We were the classic set-up of the woman moving too fast (once I had realized he was in fact, heterosexual and single) and the man who realizes he is not ready for a relationship for *insert reason here*. He sat me down in person and told me the reasons he wanted to remain friends instead of continuing a romantic relationship until he could sort his feelings out. I nodded solemnly, resolving to hold in the tears until he left. I was already internally mourning the budding friendship of talking about movies on our way to carpool, thinking I had ruined it. Guys just say that they want to stay friends, right?

However, Adam meant it. He remained annoyingly dependable despite my best efforts to fall out of love with him. I began to ask him increasingly unreasonable favors or requests that far extended the boundaries of friends. (“Could you pick me up from church? I decided to walk uphill in the snow instead of driving, but I don’t think it would be safe to walk back…” “Can I stay at your apartment? I lost my keys on my run…” “Can you pick me up from the tire place?” “Gabi and I were thinking of using the hot tub at the YMCA, want to join?”) I waited for the polite excuse, deflection, or even most frightening of all, the verbal, terse acknowledgement that these requests were violating his request to stay friends instead of romantic prospects.

But they never came. He remained unwaveringly dependable and gentlemanly, answering the phone and showing up for me every single time… and it frustrated me to no end. I’ll admit, the hot tub request was petty on my part. I remember it was after another failed attempt at online dating; the athletic dietetics student who previously referred to me as his “bumblebee” (the pet name he gave me since we met on Bumble) was now, again, no longer interested. I agreed that we were not compatible in the long-term (way too into guns and sports), but the rejection stung, and thus I sought to ease that rejection with male attention from Adam. I made sure to wear my black bikini. He remained polite and chatty as ever; the three of us passionately discussed the frustration with the disorganization of our program at the time. But I remember his attention was specifically direct that night in the hot tub, and I was placated that he may have residual interest.

And I was right! After months more of friendship, we realized we were in love during an intimate evening of another fake “double date” with our couple friends to see the movie Alita: Battle Angel… they were always on a date, so everyone always assumed Adam and I were as well since we were with them. He confessed to the reigniting romantic feelings and that he had processed his hang-ups that were keeping him from pursuing a relationship. That was 7 years ago, and I am so grateful that we both were stubborn and decided to take the scary leap of love. And you know what? He hasn’t changed since then, and he showed up in the ultimate way in the delivery room.

You would think he had witnessed a hundred births before. His calm was my constant companion throughout my birth, which was why I wasn’t scared. His steadiness during this experience solidified my choice of Adam as my husband.

As my doctor laid my son on my chest, the relief and happiness I felt for his life and safety was magnified by the happiness I felt for the family I was bringing him into. Adam was the most important decision I’ve made towards creating a wonderful, safe, and fulfilling life, which is the greatest gift I could ever give my son. And I knew, in that moment, he would always be there to hold us steady.

There is nothing like going to the movie theater. The darkness, the big screen, and being surrounded by strangers but enjoying the same screen is almost intimate. I had the extreme pleasure of seeing Project Hail Mary last weekend; the last movie I saw in theaters was Sinners over a year ago. I was on the schedule to work last Friday, and my parents were already planning to watch my son, but my work surprisingly called me off… so off to the movie I went! (After picking up some snacks at my favorite local shop Otaku Takeout of course. 😊)

I knew almost nothing about this film before going in, and I have to say, if I could describe it in one word, it would be “fun”. Now, I am not a science fiction kind of girl. The only science fiction movies I would say I really like are the Dune films (even the original David Lynch movie is entertaining in its own way), and even then, I would describe those more as Science Fantasy if anything. But this film was extremely well done, and I would attribute a large portion of that to the casting of Ryan Gosling.

He dominates probably 80% of the screentime of this movie and he does so masterfully, playing the serious scenes very well as well as balancing the humor of his character, Ryland Grace. Many other actors would appear cringey in the role I fear, but Gosling portrayed him well. His acting skill also shows in his ability to craft chemistry with his co-star Rocky, an alien that has little ability to emote or gesticulate (although when he he does, it is quite humorous). I also enjoyed how universal this movie is for movie-goers; even though it is PG-13, it is a very light PG-13 and I think a lot of kids could still enjoy this film immensely.

The main critique I would offer is that the last 1/3 of the movie is not quite as well-paced as the preceding 2/3 of the film. I felt that there were too many separations and reunions between Rocky and Ryland that I am sure is taken more slowly in the book. But it felt a bit rushed and emotionally repetitive to me so close to the end of the movie.

Overall, I would still give this film an 8/10- Will absolutely recommend. Catch it before it leaves theaters, definitely worth seeing on the big screen.

I have no authority to rate movies. I have never taken a class in film, and do not have a degree in film, so take my reviews with a grain of salt. However, ever since I have begun writing on Substack, I have realized that writing about films and motherhood has unlocked the only time in my life I have enjoyed writing. I have grandiose dreams that someday I may make revenue off this account, but I am enjoying it so much that even if I don’t, that will not ruin the experience for me. If nothing else, I have the macabre peace of mind that if something would ever to happen to me, loved ones would at least be able to re-experience my voice through this page… (wah, wah, wah)

Moving onto the scale! I have so many reviewers that I have enjoyed watching over the years, including Red Letter Media, Double Toasted, Lindsay Ellis, Jenny Nicholson, and even Nostalgia Critic way back when. I suppose I took most inspiration from Double Toasted, I love how their rating scale is focused on phrases rather than numbers, it gives you the feeling you are receiving recommendations from a friend rather than a reviewer.

I will also include my Top 10 favorite films here, in case you would like to peruse to determine if my opinion even matters to you, or we simply have different tastes. I have an ongoing list of my Top 30 Movies in the notes app on my phone, which I routinely edit. These are in order, which was PAINFUL to decide. The metric I decided to go by was number of times that I have seen each film, as the more I have rewatched, the more I enjoy:

Top 10 Movies

1. The Dark Knight

2. Batman Begins

3. There Will Be Blood

4. Game Night

5. Red Eye

6. V for Vendetta

7. Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves

8. Princess Mononoke

9. The Scarlet Pimpernel (1934)

10. Hunchback of Notre Dame

Ack, I am excited! I really enjoyed making my scale and look forward to using it in the future.

I have seen so many articles and posts about the challenges of motherhood. And there are many! But I wanted to contribute to the discourse with my favorite things about being a mom so far (my son is 1.5 years old), and I look forward to my list expanding in the future!

1. Contact naps: There is something so simple and delightful about being “nap-trapped”. My son only wanted to sleep on me for the first few months of his life, especially for naps and in the early morning stretches from 4am-6am when his sleep was lightest and he was most unhappy with his crib. I loved the proximity to all the up-close details of his face, so serene and relaxed. When they are a newborn and still very much an angry potato, there is nothing better than to see their first smiles while sleeping, as tiny smile whispers usually emerge in sleep before they start smiling while awake. Contact naps were also an amazing excuse moms can give themselves to just stop and rest without worrying about cooking, cleaning bottles, etc.

2. +2 Charisma: You get a charisma boost with a baby, which can be unsettling at first if you are an introvert like me. Holding a baby in public, especially in the South, is basically an invitation to socialize. It is so sweet, I have had people tell me stories about their kids or grandkids, comment on all of his features (“look at those blue eyes!”, and my favorite is when they gesture to their own “child” (who is now an adult and shaking their head in embarrassment) and say “That was her only yesterday!”. Even as an introvert I enjoy this increased socialization because it is a beautiful thing to connect with a stranger simply out of the shared enjoyment of proximity to a little one.

3. Perfect “excuse” to cancel: On the flipside, you can always use your baby as an excuse to cancel on a social event that you secretly do not want to go to. “Oh, Ellis is actually teething really badly today, we can’t make it!”. No one can rebuttal a baby-related excuse.

4. The random little things that make him happy: I love seeing my son go through phases of interests. His first obsession was the decorative turtle in out backward; “turtle” was actually his first word besides mama or dada that he said with intention. Then, he was obsessed with bubbles. Everything was a bubble, and everything had to revolve around bubbles and bubble related activities. Right now, he is really into dinosaurs, happily exclaiming “dio-saurs!” and growling at random. It is a treat to see every new, unexplainable, random interest that manifests and the discovery of a new one.

5. Healthy-by-proxy: Preparing meals for my son has improved our entire family’s eating habits. Ensuring he has a fruit, vegetable, protein, carb, etc. while I eat a cheeseburger feels hypocritical as well as extra effort on my part (having to prepare or acquire two meals). I also feel an overall sense of responsibility to take care of my body than before I was pregnant. I want to do everything I can to retain my mobility and health for my son’s sake as he gets older (and may have grandkids I would love to assist in caretaking for!)

6. Sleeping through the night: I don’t think I realized how much of myself would come back once he started sleeping. We lucked out in that he started to sleep through the night at around 5 months, and ever since has loved and welcomed sleep and his nighttime routine. (Bath, brush, story time). Ever since he started sleeping through the night and giving me more than 2 hours stretches of rest, it has unlocked the version of me that can laugh more easily, move my body, think clearly… it feels like getting reacquainted with someone I missed.

7. Letting Go of ‘Doing It the Right Way’: In the early days of becoming a mom I was obsessed with doing things perfectly for my son. My struggle with breastfeeding forced me to reevaluate if the decisions I was making were for my son’s best benefit or because of my ego? After that experience, I was able to realize that there are typically dozens of “healthy” choices mothers make that are informed by her finances, mental health, resources, etc., and there is never a “perfect” choice.

8. Watching his personality emerge in real time: It is surreal watching my son become more himself every week, what makes him laugh, what he insists on, what he loves. It feels less like raising him and more like getting to know him. So far, he has shown us he is tenacious, social, friendly, and he loooooves to eat.

9. Increasing my pediatric knowledge: Okay, this is a less universal aspect of motherhood, but I am an occupational therapist who specializes in adult rehab and lymphedema (so basically, I work with mostly old people). I always said I did not want to work anywhere near pediatrics, but honestly, having my son and tracking and observing his developmental milestones in real time has been so interesting. He has gross motor delay caused by a mild cerebral palsy diagnosis (he has only started tentatively walking at 18 months), so I have had to learn interventions and techniques I would have otherwise not been exposed to without this experience with him.

10. Seeing my son's relationship with our cats: My son Ellis has always been obsessed with our cats Rei and Clyde ever since he became aware of them. On the other end, they are still deciding what they think of the little intruder. But it truely is so rewarding seeing them restrain themselves from batting him in the face (haha) and stare at our son with the same awe we do. Don't get me wrong, it has been challenging dealing with both a baby and animals. They have definitely felt that our priorities have shifted from our “fur babies”, and we are still working on balancing those scales out. But I cannot help but notice that they gravitate to whatever room Ellis has taken up shop in.

    

    Well, there is my list so far. Let me know if you have any specific things about motherhood or fatherhood that you love. And if you are pregnant or want children in the future, you have so much to look forward to. <3

The allure of these films lies in their unrelenting acknowledgment that sometimes suffering can be funny. The failures, the breakdowns, the disappointments that are curated in these films are so universal to the viewer, and I think that in a strange way, that is comforting. Sometimes you don’t want to see the hero win, the love story manifest, the battle to be won. A good dark comedy will taint and contort and even mock these tidy plotlines and still manage to make you laugh.

So, I thought it would be fun to list and talk about some of my favorites. All these films are on my Top 30 Film List I keep on my phone’s notes app, hah. If you have seen any of these, let me know—are they one of your favorites, or left you wanting? Or if you think your taste is similar and think I would enjoy a dark comedy I have not listed, feel free to comment below any film recommendations.

Little Miss Sunshine (2006)

In my opinion, this film is a quintessential dark comedy. It balances the real-life complexities of a dysfunctional family with comedic but realistic scenarios perfectly. The plot centers on a family’s (and extended family) road trip to enter Olive, the family’s youngest daughter, into a beauty pageant. This film explores themes of society’s narrow definitions of success and the messy and often disappointing reality of life, showing how failure is both inevitable and deeply human.

What I love about this film is every family member has their own quirks that are both infuriating and endearing. There is no character to hate or villainize, simply flawed family members doing the best they can to take care of one another, even if they fail most of the time. Steve Carrel and Paul Dano are the standout actors in this film, both symbolizing the black sheep archetype found in many families. While their suffering is at times the source of comedic value, these actors masterfully invest in their dramatic scenes with great emotional payoff. (The scene where Dano’s character learns of his color blindness affecting his aspirations is so well done and taken very seriously in the film). As with all my Top Films, this is a film I can rewatch over and over and still thoroughly enjoy.

What We Do in the Shadows (2014)

Where do I even start with this film? It was my first exposure to Taika Waititi and it perfectly captured his awkward but hilarious comedic skills. I am always impressed by actors who can simultaneously star in and direct their own films (well, he co-directed with Jemaine Clement).

This mockumentary film follows vampire roommates who recruit a new vampire into their coven… hijinks ensue. There is a sweetness to this dark comedy that I truly enjoy; even though violence and death are a focus of the plot (they’re vampires, makes sense), the film still manages to ironically humanize the characters, especially the main vampire Viago (Taika Waititi). I especially enjoy the scenes that combine the mundane but complex dynamics of roommate situations with the fantastical behaviors of vampirism. This film was such a comfort to me during my post-partum period; it is the least dark of this list, so it was a welcome rewatch during the stress of the newborn trenches.

Swiss Army Man (2016)

Another Paul Dano movie! He is in 3 of my Top 30 Films, and thus one of my favorite actors. Be warned, Swiss Army Man is not a film you casually recommend to a coworker. The opening scene features a suicide attempt, there are more fart jokes than you can probably count on your hand, and yet I still cry every time I watch this movie. That takes skill. What is the film about? A man (Paul Dano) attempts to kill himself on a beach (and fails), before finding a “dead” body (Daniel Radcliffe) washed on shore. He discovers this body is semi-sentient and is capable of mysterious powers; their friendship leads him on a journey of radical self-acceptance.

In my opinion, the less you know about this film, the better. So, I will just end this section here with the lamentation that it is both a hilarious and very touching movie focused on loneliness, shame, and the desperately human need for connection. If you have seen it, you may also be interested to know that the soundtrack is voiced by Paul Dano and Daniel Radcliffe, a fact I only learned recently and was very amused to discover.

Stranger Than Fiction (2006)

This film is underrated, in my opinion. At least in my social circles and online sphere, I almost never hear it mentioned. It has almost everything you could want in a film: comedy, mystery, romance. An IRS agent (Will Ferrell) with meticulous habits and routines wakes up to find his life being narrated aloud; he comes to realize he is the main character of a book, a book whose author (Emma Thompson) compulsively writes that her characters die at the end of every novel. In his efforts to avoid his death, he consults a literary expert (Dustin Hoffman) and falls in love with a baker (Maggie Gyllenhaal) he is auditing.

In a film largely centered on the theme of literature (literary devices, plots, writing), I really enjoy the depth of the characters. The film almost gives the vibe of it having been based on a book considering how well developed and natural the characters inhabit this story. Will Ferrell’s character is much more of the “straight man” than Ferrell typically plays, but his rivalry turned banter with Maggie Gyllenhaal’s character is very well played and sincere. Their romantic subplot really adds something to this film combined with themes of living life fully when you aren’t guaranteed how much time you have left.

Well, that ends my “Top Dark Comedy Films” list. I am considering making this a series with various genres featured. Let me know what you think of these, and please recommend more in the comments if you think I would like them!

When I was considering what I wanted to begin to write about, my mind went first to motherhood. I have decided I want to split up my journey through motherhood into (tentative) parts. Pregnancy, birth, the trenches (0-3 months), the 1st year… and potentially more, depending on how motivated I am to continue.

Full disclosure, I am very very bad about starting things and not finishing them, and after I turned 30, that has only worsened. I must admit that the most egregious habit I have picked up is half-finishing movies or books. My husband was very excited that agreed to read I’m Starting to Worry About This Black Box of Doom… I liked it well enough, but things distracted me, and it is currently sitting in my bedroom with a bookmark on page 112, as it has for at least 6 months. My defense when my husband mentioned me finishing it?

“Well, I got the idea, ya know?”

He stalled for a moment and then threw up his arms, yelling, “No! That is literally the point of the book! Finding out what is in the box!” I digress…

I decided to write about motherhood for multiple reasons, the main one being… well… it is my life right now. There are so many things pre-motherhood me would have scoffed at, and this is one of them. But my identity right now I would say is that of “mama” (as my friend Emily and I call each other in a half affectionate and half mocking manner). I know it is annoying, I said it would never happen to me… I have a masters degree, I have hobbies, yadda yadda. I imagined all of my identities, mother, daughter, wife, OT, artist sitting perfectly in my hand like a dealing of cards. Instead, they are a deck and the top card is currently “mama”.

But you know what? I love it. My son is my primary responsibility right now and I have learned to embrace it and enjoy the (bumpy) ride. Let this blog serve as potential screaming into the void/archive of my ramblings OR potentially a source of reflective information and solace for the stray pregnant woman or mom of 6! Because if there is one thing I have appreciated on this journey, it is reading a woman’s post about exhaustion, anxiety, identity loss, etc. and thinking to myself,

“Shit. I thought I was the only one.”

But where were we? Pregnancy. So much of what I thought pregnancy would be… it wasn’t. Surprisingly, the physical aspect was not so bad for me (Okay don’t click away ladies that had a terrible physical experience… don’t worry, it all balances out later, I get my suffering comeuppance.) The worst of my symptoms was some nausea on our trip to Disneyworld. I had to skip the new Guardians of the Galaxy ride and rides like Tower of Terror, and there were many goodies I did not feel like eating. My relatively small bump helped with the mobility aspect, and so I was able to work until just about 2 weeks before my due date, lifting patients legs and pushing their wheelchairs in the tiny outpatient lymphedema clinic I worked in at the time with very little issue.

The mental side of pregnancy was another story. Almost every “fun” aspect of pregnancy I made very unfun with my anxiety. Cute recorded video of me surprising my husband? Nope. I woke him up early one Saturday immediately after I found out, poor guy. Again, cute gender reveal where we maybe buy a pink or blue filled cupcake? Nope. Open my phone at work for the genetic and gender results as I wanted to know ASAP of any genetic anomalies. Then, “reveal” the results to my husband with us sitting outside on our porch. See where this is going? Did you know there is such a thing prepartum anxiety? I didn’t, but I found out.

One of my favorite parts of pregnancy was planning my son’s nursery. One day in particular was particularly memorable. I was alone, putting some piece of furniture together and listening to one of Jenny Nicholson’s hilarious YouTube videos. Assembling all of the details was so fun, picking calming colors, bringing it all together and just imagining this little person who would be entering our lives. He would be living with us every day and introducing his own preferences, interests, habits… and we had not even met this person yet! Would he be more like me or more like my husband, or unlike either of us all together? This day, the prospect felt like an adventure to unfold rather than an anxiety to unwrap, and I was happy. I have included some pictures of his nursery for the full effect.

The most significant thing I learned while pregnant is that, for some inexplicable reason, certain members of society lose 50% of their prefrontal cortex function in the presence of a pregnant woman. If you are considering being pregnant, get ready for some of the most unhinged things you will ever hear from strangers. Some of my favorites, starting innocently enough and escalating in severity (Most of these humorous exchanges happened in the context of outpatient lymphedema treatment, I am an OT and CLT, so most of my patients I would treat for 80 minutes 3x/week):

• Walking through the clinic waiting room on my way to schedule a patient. From behind me I hear: “You havin’ a boy.” Not a greeting. Not a question. Not my patient. A statement of fact. I turn around. “Are you… talking to me?” I say sheepishly. “Yep. And you havin’ a boy. He’s sitting low.” She looked forward again as if that was the end of that conversation.

• Again, at the clinic I was working at, this time, in a treatment room with a patient. This patient was actually one of my favorite types of patients. Very type A, followed my recommendations well, very talkative so I did not have to worry about initiating conversation topics often, and her husband would always sit in the family/guest chair and never say a word, except to recall a word or factoid she could not recall. They were typically very sweet, and even compiled a list of old movies I simply had to check out. However, during one afternoon session, I mentioned how I had gone out to lunch with my coworkers. She brightened, and said “Well? Did you get a drink?” I paused. A drink? I simply figured she had forgotten, as again, my belly at the time was pretty not pronounced, so I gestured down and gently reminded her. “Ohhh yes, your generation does do things a bit differently huh,” she sighed wistfully. She did remember I was pregnant and apparently fondly recalled when women could drink while pregnant. Righto.

• Another treatment session. Maybe the trick is to just avoid working in healthcare? This patient was also sweet, less compliant with her exercises and compression garments, but that is typical of lymphedema treatment. We had been talking about my pregnancy (of course), and she says “Well you should definitely not get an epidural.” This is also quite a common topic people tend to bring up with expecting mothers unprompted that vexes me—the type of pain interventions she should have. I looked at her curiously. “Did you?” She stuttered, “Well…I’ve never had children but that is what I have heard…” Curious.

• This next patient was a doozy from the beginning. Very swollen legs, very pain addled, and very angry. It was one of the only evaluations I ever considered walking out of, he was extremely uncooperative and rude. He voiced that he highly doubted whether we could be of any help to him. Regardless, I explained the methods in which we could assist him in reducing his swelling, increasing his mobility, and (likely) reducing his pain, as we have countless other patients. His demeanor changed, and he unfortunately agreed to be scheduled for treatment. I went to the scheduler and explicitly told her “put him on my schedule only” to save my coworkers from his ire. After weeks of treatment however, I had learned his preferences and his personality, and to not take it personally. His rude and angry behaviors decreased, and started to morph into a friendly uncle sort of dynamic, which was much preferred. However, on one day, that came to haunt me. As I was preparing my materials to bandage his legs (lotion, tape, scissors, bandages, foam, etc.), he says “You know you’re gunna have a boy, right?” I sigh, not this again. Regrettably I ask how he knows that. “Because you have birthing hips.” At this point, I have the dynamic with this man that I go ahead and say, now why would you say that, that is just not called for. Moreover, I question his logic, as female infants also have to pass through the birth canal. If I remember correctly it basically boiled down to his assumption that male babies are larger (not always the case), and that he did not mean to offend me. I let the conversation end there.

• I was undecided if I should even include this last unhinged pregnancy comment. But 1) it is funny to me in retrospect, and 2) I do not want to forget it, and I quite like that these posts may serve as a method of remembering the small details years down the road. Adam and I agreed to meet a few of his coworkers at a bar in downtown Argenta. At this point, I was probably 7 or 8 months pregnant, and felt a bit out of place at a bar. When were arrived, some of Adam’s coworkers were already a few (more than a few?) drinks deep at their table, surrounded by a few empty glasses. They were stoked we had arrived, as both of us are not really “bar” people, and we were having a fun time. That is, until one of Adam’s coworkers decided to make it awkward. I had met this guy before, he was ex-military and usually on the reserved/quiet side, so I did not expect this from him. He was obviously relaxed by the alcohol and was asking Adam and I a few questions about nesting preparations for the baby, standard stuff. “Well, have y’all christened the crib yet?” Christened the… what? Did he just say that? We laughed it off and I honestly thought I had misheard him or misunderstood him… but when I asked Adam later if maybe he misunderstood what that meant, he told me, “No he meant it that way. He was just messing with us, but they were going hard on the drinks, don’t worry, I don’t think he will even remember it.”

These stories are funny to reflect on. But I also think they are evidence that we should be mindful of what we say to pregnant women. From what I have heard from other women, the things that were said to me are just the tip of the iceberg of uncalled for or presumptive statements directed at those who are literally incubating new life. However, I cannot lie and say I did not do it myself pre-pregnancy. (Put my foot in my mouth, that is.)

A coworker of mine was about 6 months pregnant. She was super kind and hard-working therapist, and newer to the clinic than I was at the time. But on a certain day, in the bustle of our work and caseload I really looked at her. Dark bags colored the spaces under her eyes and she looked uncharacteristically pale to me. The clinic was extremely busy at this time I recall, a technician had been fired unexpectantly and I believe another one quit. Us therapists were thusly asked (directed?) to clean and turn over every room after each of our patients in the short-term fall-out of staff. I was concerned about this coworker being expected to do this extra work on top of the fact she was dealing with gestational diabetes on top of everything else. Before I could think, I blurted out “You look a bit sick.” I meant it in a manner of acknowledgement, like I noticed that she did not look well and was trying to communicate my concern. Her face immediately fell, and I instantly regretted it. “No, that’s not what I meant!” She played it off, but I could tell that the damage was done and she was hurt by it. But I made an effort to clean offer to clean her rooms while she had her snack during documentation as penance when I could.

This experience with my coworker and the other stories with our patients have given me the experience to reconsider how I speak and treat other pregnant women, and realize we are all going through our own unique challenges in the first phase of motherhood.

80% of my pregnancy was actually pretty amazing, and I must admit I rather enjoyed it. The latter part was complicated by the fact my son was measuring small on the ultrasound and they thought I may need an induction. That phase was not fun at all, especially considering my OBGYN decided to take a month off in my 8th month of pregnancy. Unavoidable, but also daunting to think that the person who knew my whole medical history and progress would not be there leading up to the birth, and unfortunately the OBGYN who took his place was… less than reassuring. But that is a story for another part ( everyone’s favorite part, right?)… Birth.