The Relegated Bridesmaid

Shortly after I started working in my current position, the Assistant to the Practice Manager started asking me when I was going to have a baby. I've decided to refer to her as 'Michael Scott', even though 'Dwight Schrute' would be a more appropriate parallel analogy. Although quirky, Dwight was actually a diligent and effective employee. She's just as irritating and obnoxious as Michael and is just as inept and unproductive. I've decided that those features outweigh the accuracy of the title. No one in the office really knows exactly what she does all day, but she wanders from desk to desk and talks with staffers. She's been working in this position for thirty years, and I always remember my mother commenting that incompetent people stay in their jobs as they work very hard to hide their incompetence. They learn to look busy, and how to take credit for others' work. Overall, she is a see you next Tuesday.

From time to time she would harass me about procreating. "C'mon, before your eggs fry up" or "You're reaching amnio age." I've been dismissing her by countering that I don't want to have children, which was true for a certain time. One would think that someone who has worked in an Ob/Gyn office for thirty years would be more aware of issues such as infertility or pregnancy loss and would learn not to be nosy, but see my aforementioned description of her. Apparently, she thinks that everyone else's fertility is hers to command. Her "plan" as she frequently announced was that I would become pregnant, followed by Co-worker and then the ENT doctor (this was based on our ages and how long each of us had been married). Obviously, my gametes are not cooperating with her "plan."

Co-worker had her babies. Two boys, both healthy and adorable. She's sleepy, but reports that she is loving every second of motherhood and I couldn't be happier for her and her family. On the day of their arrival, I braced myself to hear the "you're next!" proclamation from Michael Scott. Instead, she focused her attention toward the Family Practice physician who announced her intention to start TTC after her marathon in October. Her medical assistant too. "That way you can both take your maternity leave together!" Oh, she has it all figured out...

As much as I was dreading the public reference to me potentially procreating, I have to admit it stung a little to be omitted. One could argue that maybe she finally accepted that I really don't want to be a mother, or maybe she might suspect that I could be having fertility difficulties and should be sensitive toward me. Yet, I doubt it. See my previous description of her.

I feel like a relegated bridesmaid. Additionally, I received an update from the reigning bride  herself. I was sitting alone in the break room when she walked in. She causally asked me about my day and then looked over her shoulder and sat down across from me. She asked about my blood pressure, although I suspect she was really hunting for an update about my fertility treatments. Then she dropped the P-bomb, "I'm expecting." I know from when I had to tell Co-worker about my BFP that it is really awkward to disclose your pregnancy to someone who is struggling to achieve one. I appreciate that she told me face to face (she hasn't made a grand announcement yet) and I'm happy that her pregnancy is progressing well.