Let Me Be Candid
Going to the post office is never a fun experience, let alone during the holiday season. It literally makes me want to bash my head into their cement walls.
I had to mail out 3 packages & a card yesterday afternoon, after arriving home from my doctor’s appointment. I grabbed everything I needed and flew out the door, knowing it would be a hellacious wait.
I considered myself somewhat lucky when I arrived because the line wasn’t quite out the door yet. A bunch of people came in behind me. Suckers.
It took about 3 minutes for me to get annoyed. I didn’t turn around right away, but a young sounding girl & what appeared to be her opinionated Southern mother started gabbing about her pregnancy. Now, when I first went into the building, I didn’t notice this girl was pregnant. So, when I heard her telling another woman in line that she was 8 months along, I wondered where she was hiding that bump.
The mom / daughter team & their newfound friend in line continued to gossip & complain about the woes of pregnancy, how they hated it, how miserable they were, etc for the next 32 minutes. This girl was 22 or 23 I think. The mother went on & on about having her first baby at 21, and how she can’t imagine having one when she was 10 years older, because “you just don’t have the patience for it. I was about to turn around & tell them to shut the fuck up, but I decided that wasn’t in the holiday spirit.
The line slugged along & we barely moved for over 20 minutes. Directly in front of me was the large, LED post office sign with the date & time. All I could do was focus on the sign & breathe. And all I could see that it was December 12, 2012. And all I could think of was that I was 10 days shy of my 3 year anniversary of my first miscarriage at 8 weeks. 3 years ago, I was pregnant & had no idea what was to come.
The hens couldn’t stop running their mouths about who they knew who was pregnant with their 4th baby, how the girl planned on having more since she got pregnant so easily this time, complains & more complains. I felt like I was in a freaking nightmare holding a giant flat rate box. All I wanted to do was tell them to just stop talking for 5 seconds and consider the people around them. But no one ever thinks about that, even though so many couples struggle with infertility.
So I guess we all have to suffer in silence from time to time & bite our tongues til they’re at the brink of bleeding. O
I was so glad when my 35 minute wait had ended & I arrived at the front of the line. I got the eff out of there as fast as I could and hauled butt to the pharmacy which is right across the street. There is always a long wait in there as well, so I took my number & grabbed a seat. I checked a few things on my phone and when I looked up, you would not believe it, but the prego & her southern mama had come in.
“Are you freaking kidding me right now?” I said out loud. The old lady beside me gave me a look like I was crazy. I didn’t care. Lucky for me, they sat a few rows down so I didn’t have to hear their banter anymore.
The most ironic part? I was there to refill my birth control pills for my next injectable cycle.