I will say that, for all of my bitching, that there is a certain adoration you begin to feel when you’re pregnant. Typically, I tend to blow those things off and say that I’d be vain in acknowledging them, but as the months tick by (and I grow noticeably larger), it’s nice to have people tend to me a little bit.

For instance, a coworker of mine stops by every morning and every afternoon to make sure that I’m not swelling, that I’m still okay, and that I’m taking it easy. She has determined that an empty office in our area is “Sarah’s room”, and the minute I’m tired, I’m to go in there, lock the door, and take fifteen minutes with my feet up. I don’t need this kind of caretaking, but it never goes unnoticed by me.

Another example was even more unexpected. I have been driving a four hour meeting every Monday for the past eight weeks, but my turn is now over and I only take a shift of an hour in there now. While I was in there, Tony was especially active and was sitting right on my diaphragm. I stood up, rocked back and forth for a bit, and generally tried to get enough oxygen for the two of us. After I was relieved, I headed into my boss’s office to chat. The girl who relieved me ran in about ten minutes later, pale and out of breath. “Are you okay?!” she asked.

I had no idea what she was talking about, but I said, “Yes, I’m fine. What’s up?”

She said, between gulps, “Three people in there stopped the meeting after you left and asked me to make sure you were okay. They said you were panting and pacing and they just knew you were having the baby. So I ran into the bathroom, because that’s where I would go if I were having the baby, and I said, ‘Sarah, are you in here?’ and someone said yes, but it wasn’t you, it was some other girl named Sarah who was NOT pregnant, and so I came here, and here you are. You’re okay?”

Now, the men have to be more covert about how they care for me, but they still have their ways. There are so many ethics in place in today’s corporate environment that they are afraid to even tiptoe around them.. especially when you consider that a pregnant woman is incredibly hormonal, and what might be funny one day to her might set her off the deep end the next. But today, when I sat down to our morning tag up and feverishly began fanning myself (I was seriously sweating), the old codger next to me smiled and giggled under his breath. “I’m just so hot,” I said, probably weakly. He put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Hang in there, momma.”

Again, I feel compelled to reiterate the fact that I don’t need this kind of attention. I’m not pregnant for anyone other than myself and Bryan, and I don’t expect anyone to take up my slack. In fact, I work twice as hard to make sure I have no slack.

At the same time.. it’s nice to have it.

It’s a difference of want and need.