The Concept of Personal Space

It’s an unwritten rule that you allow every individual their personal space. You don’t stand too close to someone in a queue, you don’t get really close when you’re chatting to someone and you try and allow as much personal space as possible on a bus. We’ve all been on a bus at rush hour and someone who is larger than average sits next to you taking up not only all their seat, but squishing you up against the window and blocking the aisle with their legs all at the same time. It’s inconvenient but on a bus it’s sort of acceptable because buses just aren’t made to respect the rules of personal space.

So why is it we unconsciously follow the rules of personal space everyday but if you’re pregnant all those rules go out of the window?

People seem to think it’s their privilege to walk up to you and pat you on your tummy and I don’t know why. You wouldn’t do it normally so why do it to a pregnant person? If someone asked whether it was all right if they felt your bump that’s fine – I could live with that, but I cannot abide people walking up to me, crossing the boundaries of personal space and feeling my tummy as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

One person even went as far to lift my top up (yes, really) so she could get a good look at my bump. It didn’t matter that I’ve known her for a long time; I was shocked and horrified. Pregnant or not I do not go around baring my tummy to all despite the fact my husband was (and still is) desperate for me to show off my bump to all and sundry. I like to think that I have maintained a level of sophistication throughout my pregnancy and allowing people to lift my top up to look at my bump does not come under the category of sophistication.

I was mortified and speechless. Obviously I didn’t want to be rude and say that I actually found it unacceptable, as she is someone I have known for a while, but seriously, what was she thinking? My husband said the look on my face was one of pure disgust and yet he couldn’t actually see what the issue was. As you can imagine I made rather a quick exit as I was also feeling slightly embarrassed and decided the best way to handle the situation was to think nothing more of it.

Until the same person came up to me today to touch my bump. Again. Without permission. I thought she might have got an indication I wasn’t overly happy about what happened last time, but clearly not. Perhaps she thinks it’s acceptable but I most certainly do not. And yet, I’m still worrying about offending her because if I say something, she would be mortified, I am sure.

Sometimes I can’t but wonder what makes people think their behaviour is acceptable when most would regard it as not. I would not touch anyone’s bump, not even my closest friend’s without permission as it is crossing the boundary of personal space and something I am aware not everyone would be comfortable with. So if I feel that way, what makes other people think differently?

Perhaps I am overreacting. The person concerned is nice and friendly and is really excited about the baby. Perhaps this is her way of showing her enthusiasm for us and I know she doesn’t mean any harm. Different people are brought up in different environments with different rules and experiences (this is what makes us different) and whereas I am the sort of person who will always maintain a level of personal space no matter who it is I am with, there are others who are perhaps more comfortable with themselves and other people which allows them to invade personal space without a second thought.

Not Enough Attention

Following a short weekend away in Scotland last week, which, I might add, I was very much looking forward to, I decided that currently I am not receiving enough attention. Despite the fact that I spent most of Saturday evening at a friend's 21st birthday dinner being quizzed by a variety of people about my pregnancy this was clearly not enough.

On Sunday, we were visiting some friends and the plan was to have lunch with them before heading back home. So after about ten minutes of arriving, I decided to stage my attention seeking stunt by passing out. Yes, really. Unfortunately, as much as I wish it was, it was not planned, nor in actual fact was it funny. Because according to my family and my husband I didn't technically pass out as my eyes remained open throughout before eventually rolling up into the back of my head. Sounds lovely, doesn't it? I was unresponsive to the people around me, and my husband said had it not been for the other people around, he would have given me a good slap to try and bring me back round. Charming, but he was genuinely worried. But that isn't it. Because not content with scaring the living daylights out of everyone that was there, I decided to vomit as well. Whilst I was blacked out. Yes, really. The only thing I remember is feeling a little funny and thinking that I would ask for a glass of water. Then the buzzing in my head began and before I had time to react, I had already gone.

Coming back round, I genuinely did not know what had happened. I was staring into the bottom of a bucket which had obviously been thrust in front of me with no idea what it was there for. My first thought was "What's this for?" Then, as the rest of my senses kicked in I was aware of a commotion all around me and wondered what was going on, as the last thing I remember is everyone sitting around chatting. It took me a good few seconds to realise that the commotion was all about me. Then I realised I'd been sick everywhere. Which was not pleasant. Especially when you're in someone else's house and it's all over their cream carpet and sofa. So by the time the full realisation of what happened hit me I was feeling embarrassed, awful, upset, guilty and horrified. And for some reason kept insisting that I didn't know I was being sick because that seemed especially important to get across at the time.

So, as everyone was still staying for lunch I spent the next hour being watched very carefully (after being cleaned up of course). I had to nip out to the car because the heartburn was kicking in and I needed my trusty Gaviscon, I wanted some fresh air and I just wanted five minutes to myself to just calm down a bit. I must have been longer than I thought because my father - in - law came out to make sure I was OK but this was after everyone had been worrying that I'd passed out again in the snow but were reluctant to come and find me as no one wanted to seem over - bearing.

After that, as you can imagine I just wanted to get home. The shock of what had happened hadn't really passed and I can honestly say I have never wanted to go home as much as I wanted to at that moment. After the "episode" I also felt extremely tired but during the two hours or so it took to get home I was not allowed to snooze in the car as my husband was worrying that I'd pass out again and he wouldn't be able to do anything if he was driving. If I'd been silent for more than five minutes I'd get asked if I was all right. And yes, I know it is only because he was worried about me and he wanted to get home as much as I did.

Following that incident everyone insisted that I go and get checked out by a midwife, but my husband decided that I wasn't to leave the house and I had to insist on a home visit. The midwifes though don't like cases such as this so refer you to the doctor. Doctors, unfortunately, don't really like getting involved with pregnant women, so after an appointment where the doctor ummmed and aahhed for a little while he decided he was going to refer me to the Delivery Suite at the Infirmary where they have lots of special machines they can hook me up to make sure everything is OK.

To cut a long story short, after spending most of the day at the Infirmary the doctor there, and the midwives decided that, in fact, there wasn't anything wrong with me and it could have just been a "blip". Just what I wanted to hear.

Unfortunately I had to be back at the Health Centre on Wednesday morning for an injection, which I wasn't looking forward to, but was not getting stressed about with either. Not content with the amount of attention I received on Sunday and Monday I decided to pull another stunt.

Yup. In the Health Centre. With plenty of doctors and nurses. Funny. Not. I was feeling funny and really anxious not to pass out again after what happened Sunday, I tried not to pass out again by drinking lots of plenty of water, getting near a window to get some fresh air, walking around and even sitting leaning forward. Then the buzzing kicked in, which, of course made me panic.

Abandoning everything on the chair I rushed to the toilet where I locked the door and spent five minutes splashing cold water on my face. Then I realised it was stupid to lock the door as no one would be able to get to me if I did pass out. But with the help of cold water it passed. Until I sat down again when the buzzing kicked in.

Two more trips to the toilet later, it wasn't getting any better and I was desperate for the midwife to see me. I might add I was walking around, shaking my head much to the amusement of the other patients who were watching me with interest. Not one of them bothered to ask if I was all right.

By this time I could hardly see where I was going, there were black spots in front of my eyes and I seemed really far away. I managed to stagger to reception where I garbled something to her about seeing the midwife because I was really struggling. Completely oblivious to the way I was feeling she asked me to repeat myself before telling me that the midwife was calling me at that minute. So I dashed back to the waiting area, gathered my stuff, still not being able to see properly, and went through to where the midwives rooms are. But there wasn't a midwife. And I didn't know what room she was in. And by this time I was really close to passing out completely because I was losing control. And panicking. I kind of shouted out "Midwife! Help!" She came out, took one look at me and so grateful to see her I kind of barged past her into the room she had come out of. Taking one look at me she knew I wasn't well and then she gave me instructions to help me try and overcome the dizziness, light headiness, buzzing etc that was going on in my head.

After sitting down leaning forward the dizziness still hadn't passed, and eventually she made me lie down before going off to get me a sweet tea and some biscuits. She was really nice about it, and I did apologise for barging past her. She said that I had actually looked quite wild. But her diagnosis? Lack of oxygen to the brain and there isn't anything they can really do. Oh, and it sounds like something I may be prone to now. Which, I just wanted to hear.

And, oh, by the way, did I mention that I've still got eight weeks of work left which means that this could quite possibly happen whilst I'm at work? I had to ring my boss yesterday and I mentioned that I'd had a couple of episodes where I had passed out and nearly come close to passing out again, but, being a boss, he decided the best way to react to this news was to make a joke and said that if he came down and I wasn't at my desk, he'd be sure to check under it. Which I found hilariously funny. Not.

Because even though all this might sound rather amusing, it's not. I was absolutely terrified on Wednesday morning and spent ten minutes crying hysterically down the phone to my husband when I finally got back home.

And for the time being I have been banned from driving and am currently house bound. My husband is trying to look after me, but quite frankly, at the moment, I'm too scared to go anywhere on my own so am quite happily following his orders.

Pyjama Wearers R Not Us

There is one story in this week newspapers which I cannot possibly ignore. In case you're not aware of it, Tesco has banned pyjama wearers from visiting a particular store. The offenders, young mums, claim that they do not have time to get dressed before taking the kids to school. Now, everyone (pyjama wearers, I presume) are criticising Tesco for taking things too far, and that wearing your pyjamas whilst doing your grocery shopping is not offensive.

To be quite honest I don't care whether people find it offensive or not. What horrifies me is that these people claim they don't have time to get dressed before taking their kids to school. Well, surely the answer is obvious? Get out of bed earlier! I think it is a pathetic excuse and not only that but surely anyone who has a bit of self respect would not take their kids to school wearing pyjamas let alone stopping off at the supermarket. And what sort of lesson are they teaching their children? Are they going to turn into a breed of pyjama wearers who don't bother getting out of their jammies at all?

Besides, if they genuinely don't have time to get dressed themselves (although the only reason for this is laziness and bad organisation) surely it can't be that hard to just throw on a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a jumper? At least then you'd look half decent.

Quite frankly I get embarrassed if I have to open the door to the postman wearing my pyjamas, and I certainly do not cross the threshold wearing my much loved jammies, not even to take the bins out or when I've left my brush in the car.

I love my pyjamas and on more on one occasion I have gotten changed into them after a long day. But just because I love my jim jams it does not mean I'll be doing my supermarket shop in them anytime soon.

Personally, I think Tesco's got it right. These people need some motivation to get their lives in order, and they obviously don't think much of themselves if they can't even be bothered to get dressed before they leave the house. By banning this lazy breed of people, at least someone is giving them some sort of motivation to at least change out of their pyjamas before nipping out for the milk.