Hold Your Own Door!

I've found that when you've entered the realm of "parent-to-be" (especially "mom-to-be") there is always some fear that creeps enter your psyche. Don't misunderstand--I am BEYOND thrilled to be mom and am (im)patiently waiting to meet my little girl in person! But every parent worries about if they'll be a good parent, which my very wise sister-in-law assured me when I had my first panic attack several months ago.  


However, I'm not talking about those fears; I'm talking about slightly irrational, some what common, and are almost always hysterical in nature if you stop and think about them for a moment.  I've found in my third trimester I have a new one almost every week and they each last roughly a week--Thank goodness, otherwise I would be paralyzed in bed.


This week's fear is elevators. I never realized how much of an incubator these steel boxes were...that was until I was 8 months pregnant!  I mentioned that I've become a professional patient, which means elevators are a part of my routine. 

Image from businessinsider.com

Well, the panic set in when I was on my way to my endocrinologist. She's located on the 5th floor of a building that contains all sorts of specialities--none of which are OB's, so clearly I'm there for something besides just being pregnant. The elevators in this renovated building are still being renovated. They all close very quickly and moved up and down the 6 floors slowly.


The elevator nightmare started out with myself and an older gentleman standing on either side of an open elevator waiting for everyone to exit. We both started to enter the elevator when it started to shut. At that moment, the only part of my body that was close enough to hold the door was my 8 month belly--so, NOT gonna happen! The older gentleman did nothing and gave me a sour look! Seriously guy? Hold your own damn door! I'll patiently waddle to the next elevator to open. 


But the nightmare didn't stop with the (almost) belly eating doors. When I finally boarded the elevator, I stood as far to the side as I could to be out of the way. The elevators aren't small but for some unknown reason a woman with her chemotherapy bag hooked up and out felt the need to stand within 2 inches of me. I'm not trying to sound cruel and honestly I don't know the specifics of why this is bad. I do know that my grandmother's doctor told me that if she started chemo she couldn't be around me while I was pregnant: hence, this circumstance mad me very uncomfortable. 


To top it all off there was a little kid sneezing standing on the other side! I had a severe cold for 2 and 1/2 months of this pregnancy--I don't want another one! Both circumstances made my anxiety shoot through the roof and also made the 45 second elevator ride feel like an hour. The rest of the elevator was fairly empty, I don't know why everyone wanted to stand on top of the fat, er, pregnant chick. 

Image from arccentralvalley.blogspot.com

I'm not saying that I need to ride elevators alone for the next 6 weeks (although if someone could hook that up it would be AWESOME!).  I'm just asking that if you find yourself on an elevator with a pregnant woman please respect her larger than usual personal/baby bubble in the insane Petri dish we call an elevator.