Look, I'm sorry, I know that was awful. But, like, shut up.
Dear Lady in the Diner Bathroom: It is none of your business how I speak to my baby. Please do not instruct me in the perils of baby talk, which by the way I was not even using, whilst urinating, because it is none of my business how you sound while you pee. Thx. Jo.
Dear Other Lady at the Diner: Shoes for new walkers are supposed to be soft. That business about hard shoes being required to shape the bones of the foot is of an era with rickets and ground itch. So shut your damn fool mouth. All best, J. van de LP
Dear Drive-by Mommy at the Otherwise Very Crunchy Bookstore: How kind of you to hint at frightening outcomes to "all" the homebirth attempts in your circle of acquaintances in the presence of a pregnant woman who is planning a homebirth! I'm sure the mother of the baby "who's okay, finally, thank God, you know, after a month in the NICU" would appreciate her personal story -- or at least vague insinuations thereof -- being used to bludgeon the unwitting; likewise, I was most grateful to hear you instantly transmogrify my admitted transfer to "see?! Yet another horror story! [gesture skyward at the foolishness!]" We all certainly appreciated the airing of your opinions, at once presumptuous, ill-informed, and tactless, regarding "all that natural crap" in childbirth. I think Judith Martin herself might agree that wishing a pregnant woman "Good luck!" in rueful and ominous tones meant to suggest the subsequent "...you'll need it!" is hardly in the spirit of good sportsmanship and Girl Power. Ditto "I hope you have a good midwife," particularly when the obvious subtext is "one who is actually an obstetrician." Oh, and barging ahead into "Well, what hospital are you going to?" territory as a foregone conclusion.
In sum: suck it. Love, Mrs. Dr. LP.
P.S. Bragging about your eighteen-month-old daughter's bullying prowess is not the way to make buddies at playgroup.
Those of us upon whom the malady of PCOS has been visited will understand, I think, the need for community in this pervasive and crappily-understood condition. PCOS isn't the secret it was only ten years ago, but we are only just beginning to understand the millions of ways, annoying (acne, hair where there was no hair before) to life-threatening (preeclampsia, heart disease, diabetes), that it affects us. One real pisser of an effect is the potential disruption of breast development -- which can lead to low milk supply (that is, if you get and stay pregnant).
I am among the five to twenty percent of women with PCOS who have mad crazy supply (it's calmed down since the early days, but I still make spots on my shirt and leak all over the damn sheets), but I've been corresponding with someone who would very much like some Tales of PCOS-Related Supply Problems. Therefore I invite comments about it -- let's talk about this craziness. (And I would be remiss if I did not invoke the name of Lisa Marasco, IBCLC, who is the voice in the wilderness on this topic -- feel free to Google for many an article.)
So bring it ON.
(Oh, one more thing: I'm going to be away from the computer until, like, Monday. No fighting.)