Please, let a pregnant woman be!

The last leg for a pregnant career woman in the office is particularly crushing. The days are so near yet so far. It’s like time does not fly. Most working mothers push themselves almost to the last day and that is what I have been doing. I even carry my hospital bag with me, just in case.

In my 40-week journey of being pregnant, I must say this last two weeks have been particularly difficult. Not only are you fatigued beyond words but also nosy colleagues just can’t let you be.

I can take the exhaustion and fatigue, but the snide comments and questions that come your way, can send you into early labour.

Sample this: “Not yet. ‘Kwani’ you have gone beyond your due date?”

This question is so irritating, I always feel like responding with something like: “Yes my due date is not here yet that is why I am dragging my elephant tummy in the corridors of the office otherwise, I would be in the delivery room.”

The best of them is: “You are so big. Are you sure you are not carrying twins.”

For this, an appropriate answer should be something like: “Thank you very much for reminding me what I see in the mirror every day. A fat tired woman.”

People really have guts. A colleague engaged me in some stupid banter during one of the lunch breaks. I almost choked on my food.

“Why did you wait for that long to get a second child? ‘Ama’ you and your hubby were having trouble conceiving.” I just smiled politely and walked away.

I was totally offended. I mean what is it about a pregnant woman that makes everybody feel like they have a right to ask prodding questions. I mean why should I explain my sex life to anybody?

And who told people that because I have a daughter now, I must be dying to have a son? I am of the school of thought that a child is a child. But the know-it-alls assume that now that I have Tasha, I may want a Mark to make a perfect family.

People should be really considerate of a pregnant woman. I mean the fact that I seat next to you, does not mean that my tummy should be the subject of discussion, just because it is bulging.

When we meet, let’s talk about anything else, the good old weather, the referendum or sinking ships and leave my tummy in peace; it has enough problems of its own.