Spaghetti

I was recently having a new mama heart-to-heart with my best friend, Tiff.  I shared with her a story that I couldn't believe I hadn't told her before... And I can't believe I haven't shared it here either.

Very early in my pregnancy, I wanted to call my OB's nurse for a question, but was afraid that it was dumb and I didn't want to be that new crazy pregnant lady that was calling the office all the time.

I remember telling my sweet baby sister, Rachel, about my question and my fear of being the new crazy pregnant lady.  She laughed and proceeded to share a story that her nanny friend (who use to be a receptionist at an OB/GYN office) shared with her, in hopes it would make me feel more comfortable about calling the nurse.

It worked.

Apparently, a pregnant woman called this office and was in complete and utter hysterics because, "She killed her baby."  As it's probably an uncommon phone call to receive, the receptionist tried to get the woman to calm down and explain.  All the woman kept saying (hysterically) was that she killed her baby.

Once she was able to calm down and explain, the woman said this:

"I was eating spaghetti.  And I didn't cut up the noodles small enough.  The spaghetti strangled my baby."

Yep.  As in, she thought that either the baby was actually in her stomach, or that the spaghetti was going to end up in her uterus.  I'm guessing the former.

Can you see why this story might make me feel more comfortable about calling the nurse to ask my "dumb" question?

Now, whether it has to do with me, or with Camden, I don't hesitate to call the doctor's office nurse(s).  Because I'm pretty sure, whatever I'm going to ask - is a hell of a lot less crazy than spaghetti noodles strangling a fetus.

Source

Just some food for thought.

Take Luck,

LP