For me . . . its not about the bellies. I can see bellies all day - if fact I do . . . all day every day. Maybe this has just desensitized me. But the truth is I don't think that bellies are that cute - it is just the outward sign of a huge change in physiology that can bring upon potential complications in health. Maybe that's how I get through the day. Work is work. I try very hard to just suck it up. I take care of women and their babies - when they are there at their visit it is their only time to ask the questions they have - its not about me at all. And the truth is I care about my patients and the health of their pregnancy - and I wish nothing but the best of health for them all.
Here's what does bother me . . . people I know socially that have the gift of nonstop complaining. When I leave work - I am off, yet pregnant people seem to think that I want to hear about their pregnancy in gory detail over nachos. I can usually deal with the occasional legitimate question like "they found some dilation of the kidney on the ultrasound - is that bad?" - This is the type of question that makes having a gynecologist friend useful.
What I can't take are the barrage of complaints and the constant re-steering of the conversation back to their pregnancy. I understand that your back hurts, I understand that you have to pee all the time, I understand that you can't sleep at night. I will GLADLY trade places with you just about now. No I don't want to hear about your sex life while pregnant. No I don't want to know how you are designing the nursery. Please spare me the details of your name choosing. And please god don't tell me all of the things you saw on some documentary about how hospitals are evil and expect me to try to convince you otherwise.
I just need to keep reminding myself how much I hate this so I won't do it in the future. (Hold me to that if I ever get there and keep posting here). So for now . . . I have decided to avoid pregnant people outside of work. I almost feel like sending a card:
Congrats on your pregnancy! You must be so excited.
Talk to you again in 9 months*
*actually in 9 months you will be too busy to ever remember we were once friends . . . so I guess this is goodbye.
So there is my current coping method. Chicken I know - but its a temporary survival tactic.