Thursday, September 20, 2007

way t.m.i.

Today I had a conversation with a female colleague I barely know that started with a story about her son being sick. Physically ill, I mean, with a flu or something.

Me: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. I hope he gets better soon.

Colleague: Well, he's he only one I've got. I tried to have more, but I just couldn't.

Me [backing away]: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.

Colleague: Yeah, the next two after him I miscarried, and the one after that turned out to be dead inside me. I just went in one day when I was 8 1/2 months pregnant and there was no more heartbeat. You know when you just know something's wrong when the ultrasound operator and the doctor look at each other in that way? But I guess I was older so there was more risk of it or something. So at that point they can't do anything but wait for you to give birth to the dead baby. So even though I had a C-section when I had my son, I had to go through real labour and childbirth for my dead baby. It was really awful.

Me [backing away much faster]: Oh my. I'm so sorry.

Why do people I barely know feel the need to share this much information?!


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