So, there’s a woman in my office who’s pregnant. There are 6 cubicles in a rather small room, she’s in one and she’s pregnant. I don’t know her well, due to not working on the same stuff, but she seems like a reasonably nice person. She’s never been anything but nice to me. Maybe a little blah, but we can’t all be as cute and funny as me, right? I was like, 2 days behind her in due date. She was telling people she was pregnant when I was trying to figure out how to. Went cubicle to cubicle, like trick-or-treating.

I’ve known about this for the last month. It’s nothing new. I knew it would be hard to come to work some days.

She’s had 4 miscarriages. She’s pretty well acquainted with that kind of pain. It’s not like she’s this oblivious pain-in-the-ass woman who’s easy to meow at. I remember thinking, “Oh, this’ll be just great if someone miscarries”. I don’t know why I ever thought it might not be me. I sent her an email asking her to please not feel weird about talking about her pregnancy in front of me, that’d make me feel even worse. My purpose is not to suck all the air out of the room, and ruin this experience for her. She emailed back that she understood, that it’s hard to be around pregnant people when you’ve had a miscarriage. She was kind and understanding, and she’s been through it herself. She deserves a break.

And yet I’m still beginning to hate her.

From here on out, she could discover the cure for cancer and I’d still probably find a reason not to like her. Even if she wasn’t pregnant. It’s this visceral thing that comes out of nowhere and bites me on the ass. The green-eyed monster…..

At least I’m keeping my petty, small, mean, piggy-eyed self quiet (except for venting here). I’m rather ashamed of how much I’m disliking her right now.

Good days and bad……. the poor woman’s done nothing to deserve this venom. I need to get on the treadmill worse than anyone I know right now.

Moving forward is hard, but it sure as hell beats staying where you are sometimes.