As I made my slow, painful way from the car park to the office entrance, heavily pregnant and waddling with discomfort, a shrill voice pierced the air from behind me. 'Are you sure you're only carrying the one?' it called out. At eight months pregnant, I was accustomed to such comments about my size, given the severe complications that made me appear and move as though I were expecting quadruplets. The constant pain and breathing difficulties meant waddling was my only viable mode of transport in those final weeks.
A Crushing Comment That Crossed the Line
What followed, however, was not just intrusive but downright cruel. The colleague, leaning out of a window to address me once more, shouted, 'I bet you wish you'd kept your legs shut now!' before erupting into laughter as if she had delivered the wittiest punchline. The joke fell utterly flat, leaving me feeling as though I had been physically punched in the stomach. I was stunned that anyone would have the audacity to direct such a remark at a heavily pregnant woman, especially in a professional workplace setting and from someone with whom I had no personal rapport.
The Hidden Struggle Behind the Pregnancy
What this colleague could not have known was the immense journey I had undertaken to reach this point. For over a year, I had been militant in my efforts to conceive, taking tablets, tracking ovulation with strips and apps, scouring online forums for advice, experimenting with diets, and meticulously timing intimacy with my partner. Each month that passed without success felt like a profound failure of my body, taking a significant mental toll. The false hopes were particularly devastating, with positive pregnancy tests swiftly turning into pain, tears, and discarded bloodied tissues.
When conception finally occurred, after considerable strain on my relationship, it felt almost too good to be true. This anxiety manifested in a stress-filled first trimester, haunted by fears of miscarriage. As the pregnancy progressed, it was immediately classified as high-risk due to my pre-existing hypothyroidism, necessitating frequent appointments, scans, and blood tests to monitor the baby's and my health.
A Cascade of Medical Complications
The physical challenges were relentless. I endured constant illness and pain, with prescribed diet plans proving ineffective. By four months, I was diagnosed with excess amniotic fluid, followed shortly by gestational diabetes. The third trimester brought pelvic girdle pain and rapid fluid retention, leaving me unable to stand or walk without tears. A subsequent diagnosis of polyhydramnios, an excess of amniotic fluid, compounded the difficulties, all while the gestational diabetes remained entirely beyond my control.
The Insensitive Treatment from Others
Compounding these medical struggles was the insensitive behaviour of people around me. Upon sharing my pregnancy news, it felt as though I had invited a barrage of personal and demeaning questions. Many assumed it was an accidental pregnancy, disregarding the effort and heartache involved. I longed for simple kindness and understanding, particularly from fellow parents, like my loud colleague in the car park.
Deeply upset by her comments, I confided in my team immediately. One supportive colleague, who had witnessed my fertility struggles and a prior false hope incident in the office, agreed that the remarks were despicable. I considered reporting the incident to HR but hesitated due to the company's cliquey culture, fearing my concerns would not be taken seriously. Opting to keep my head down, I successfully avoided the colleague until my maternity leave began.
A Traumatic Birth and Aftermath
In February 2020, just weeks before the national lockdown, I was induced into a 16-hour labour characterised by relentless back-to-back contractions. An emergency episiotomy and forceps delivery finally welcomed my baby into the world. Yet, the colleague's hurtful words lingered in my mind, their insensitivity magnified by my desperate desire to become a mother and the fertility battles I had faced.
When I fell pregnant again ten months later, through a thankfully smoother process, I made the decision to leave the company. Upon returning from maternity leave, I was shuffled between departments without a stable role and denied appropriate pay for my work. Departing proved the best move for both my career and mental health. My second pregnancy mirrored the first in many ways, but I was better prepared to handle it. The lockdown period, limiting interactions to my bubble and medical professionals, ironically provided a calmer experience, free from unwanted stomach touches and intrusive comments.
Lessons in Compassion and Silence
This profound experience has taught me the value of restraint and empathy. When I now see a heavily pregnant woman waddling in evident discomfort, I refrain from making assumptions or dressing up judgments as jokes. Instead, I offer a sympathetic smile. You can never truly know what someone has endured. As I teach my two children, if you have nothing kind to say, it is often better to say nothing at all. The workplace must evolve to foster environments where expectant mothers receive support, not scorn, during one of life's most challenging journeys.
