Sometimes Nature Demands You March to Front of the Line

Dear Vicki: I’m 33 weeks pregnant for the first time. Over the weekend, I went to the theater with my husband. At intermission, I raced to get to the ladies’ room. Unfortunately, it was on the opposite side of the theater. By the time I got there, there were at least 20 women in front of me in line. I felt like I was going to burst by the time my turn finally came. When I returned to my seat and told my husband I’d had to wait, he said I should have just walked to the head of the line and stated that I was pregnant and had to use the restroom now! Was he right?

--AFRAID OF BEING RUDE

Dear Afraid: First of all, if you don’t look obviously pregnant at 33 weeks, considering most women give birth at 40 weeks, then you must be a member of the WNBA or one of those fortunate few who gain far less than the 35 to 45 pounds my girlfriends and I put on during gestation. I’m truly surprised that no one in line took one look at you and immediately offered you her place in line!

Second, although I may digress a bit here, I just want to applaud you for attending something culturally enriching in your very pregnant state. By my third trimester, I couldn’t even sit through a screening of “Scream” because sitting with the baby in my belly felt like I’d been handed a bowling ball by the ticket attendant to hold in my lap for two hours.

Back to brass tacks. Your husband was completely correct in his assessment of the ladies’ room situation. The urge to relieve your bladder when it’s being used as a trampoline by a 4- or 5-pound fetus is excruciating. The only explanation I can think of for your sisters’ insensitivity is that they had either neglected to wear their Depends or had never yet birthed a child. Or perhaps they are like me, a veteran of multiple births, left with little or no ability to “hold it” anymore.

If the idea of making a public declaration about your need to urinate is too contrary to your nature, you could have turned right around and walked to the concession stand or to a floor manager and told them that you had a “pregnancy emergency” and needed a private bathroom. You’d be amazed how many businesses have employee or executive potties that they don’t tell us about. The snootiest staffs, from your local discount stores to the most exclusive boutiques, are miraculously inspired by the sight of a panicky pregnant woman on the verge of exploding to reveal the precious (and clean!) toilets hidden in the bowels of their structures (no pun intended).

To my way of thinking, pregnancy is a great opportunity for women to learn to be more assertive in general. Most of us have grown up learning to be a part of this society by enhancing it and nurturing it, rather than demanding that it sit up and take notice of our needs. Difficult as it may be to shout at a particularly pushy fellow shopper under normal circumstances, pregnancy often bestows on us the courage to shove right back, even if it’s only because we are temporarily carrying precious cargo.

In other words, even if your upbringing didn’t give you the nerve to ask for the only vacant seat on the bus under normal circumstances, when you’re carrying the future of civilization in your belly, you should feel absolutely entitled to ask the nearest able-bodied person to move out of your way and let you sit down. In case you need to be reminded, my dear mommy, you are doing yeoman’s work--growing this human being in your innards--and if you don’t respect your special rights enough to speak up for you and your vulnerable baby, you’re making a serious mistake.

You mentioned that this is your first baby. As someone who has carried four, I am here to tell you a deep dark secret of motherhood: The dew is off the rose after the first pregnancy. Even those closest to you and most protective (read: your husband) will be much more cavalier about your second and third pregnancies, so it’s in your best interest to milk this experience for all it’s worth. Trust me, it will be a lot harder to convincingly talk a supermarket box boy to push your groceries all the way to your car and load them into the back when you are striding alongside him or her with a toddler in your arms riding on your belly bump like it was nature’s personal chair designed just for his comfort.

I can’t end this letter without giving the gals in the theater restroom one more benefit of the doubt: Lots of us are timid about presuming a fellow girlfriend is pregnant because we don’t want to insult a comrade by assuming she’s pregnant when, really, she’s just had a Jenny Craig lapse or incorrectly added up her Weight Watchers points for the day. This is one more reason for you to share your blessed news with total strangers. I sincerely believe that once you let them know your condition, they’ll fall like dominoes trying to get you to the front of the line.

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Vicki Iovine is the author of the “Girlfriends’ Guide,” a columnist for Child magazine and parenting correspondent for NBC’s “Later Today.” Write to her at Girlfriends, Southern California Living, Los Angeles Times, Times Mirror Square, Los Angeles, CA 90053; e-mail GrlfrndsVI@aol.com.