THE Pregnancy Melt-Down

Well, we all knew it would happen. I mean, it’s me. Little Miss Reactive. Little Miss Fly Off the Handle then laugh about it later. Let me paint the picture.

I have a client that I truly love. It’s probably one of my most favorite clients ever and it’s important for me to do a good job for her always. Yesterday we were ready for a big launch - a delayed big launch mind you. As we are nearing the hours towards launch, it’s getting tight. She needs information for testing. I need information from my PM. The other vendor for the integration needs answer....and I'm like monkey in the middle. I'm hot. I'm tired and I'm not getting the answers I need to give her. Furthermore, there are lots of little details that need done. We all know details are not my strong suit. I am a big picture kind of girl.

So, I'm literally sweating because I'm so stressed out. Not the figurative 'sweating', I mean the soaking your clothing through your bra kind of sweating. Hey - I have a mini-space heater in my stomach.

My client is asking questions, I'm over-heating, I’m stressed out and as I said, I can’t answer my client and all of a sudden, the first tear trickles out...I try to stifle it, but then the second tear makes his way out of the duct. I try calmly to ask my client if I can call her back. She can hear my voice cracking and is probably thinking “calm down, crazy!” And as she tries to calm me down (on her launch day) I say again, I must hang up. We do. Thankfully. I wasn’t prepared to do the following on the call with said client.

No sooner do we hang up that I frantically throw my tank top as if it’s on fire and wiggle out of my harness known as a bra. AND THEN I sat, pathetically at my desk, sobbing. I mean, these must be nearly 9 months of hormonal tears just flowing down my hot, steaming face. I cried so much, so hard, for truly, no reason that I had to shower just from the mess I made of my face alone. Never mind the aforementioned sweat fest.

My seriously wonderful husband came home in the middle of my private meltdown. He came up to hug me and I could not even look at him, feeling so ashamed like Denver the lab. Instead I whispered "Can you please give me 5 minutes to collect myself" and because he is the bomb-diggity, he didn't just give me 5 minutes. He cleaned up the kitchen clutter while I put on my big girl panties so I could deal.

Oh, the joys of pregnancy!