Groovy, my co-worker, is expecting her first baby. How exciting. Because she doesn't know what to expect, she's listening to ever expert and reading the requisite baby material, which is great.
She's getting on my last nerve.
When you're pregnant, it's important to be aware of your environment and what types of foods and chemicals you allow in your body. Developing babies are sensitive. Her caution has turned into neurosis, leaving me to want to slap the living fuck out of her ever other hour. Sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up with all this scientific reasearch and shit. I'm convinced she hovers over her PC in anticipation of the latest newsletter telling her of some shit she shouldn't eat, breathe, or touch. I wanna put her in a bubble and feed her through a tube. I find it interesting she thinks I had choices about what I ate. It was either eat what's here, during the times there was something available, or eat nothing at all. Unfortunately, the latter was the norm.
Next comes the questions of "When you were pregnant, did you..." Hayle nawl I didn't. When I was pregnant at 15 and 18, pregnancies wern't celebrated by anyone and our pregnancies (hers and mine) were under very different circumstances.
Me: Young and unsure of myself, not knowing what to do with my life. No direction. Young and black. Burden to society. Not educated (enough). Just trying to survive. No, I didn't reasearch car seats for safety ratings, being that I didn't have a car, and to this day, I still don't have a car. Safety ratings don't mean shit. No I didn't buy bouncer seats or swings, playpens or baby gyms. I was my baby's playpen and gym.
Her: Early 30's, master's degree, interested in politics and world events. Married. Liberal. Goofy, but not in a bad way. Trained school teacher, program manager by choice. Agonizes over every minute detail bout this child.
Now, because she's so concerned bout these insignificant things (IMO), I decided to ask her what she did have for her baby. Don't quite recall what she said, but I do know what she didin't say: pampers, socks, undershirts, bunting, sleepwear, bottles...all the essential shit. What's wrong with this picture?
I'm happy for her and do believe she'll make a good mother. She's idealistic, but doesn't realize it. Her pregnancy isn't my pregnancy. We live on two opposite ends of the social scale where my pregnancies of women of my caliber are suppressed and viewed as failure, while hers are celebrated and encouraged. She asks, "Kia, do you plan on having more kids?" Bitch is you dumb? The last thing I need is another person to suck up the rest of my income.
I remember when a friend and I went to the same doctor for the same reason, damn near within the same week. This doctor recommended, damn near demanded I go on birth control, while my friend was given literature and was told to think it over. Think.it.over. I see it as population control for blacks. What else could it be? She and I had the same identical problem. Why is birth control pushed on me, but is only an option for her?
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