I have a question for all those pregnant (or once pregnant) ladies out there. (Hell, even if you’re a guy and you know someone pregnant and can help out, feel free to.) Is it normal to experience fits of rage? Because that is what has been happening to me. If you need an example, I’ll give you the most recent.
Yesterday I took the subway into Manhattan to have lunch with some friends and try and shop for maternity clothing (which did not happen because I started to feel really sick, sicker than I have yet). So, I took the L Train home. There were two guys sitting in a space made for three people, their legs were spread out like certain guys do on the subway. (A seat-hogging tactic I have always hated, even before getting pregnant.) I moved toward the space. I lifted my hand as if to say, “Can I please sit?” They barely moved. So I squeezed my ass into the spot. (I might not look pregnant, but I feel like I am.) The guy on my right refused to budge. And he was huge, a massive hulk of a bloated man. He wore one of those puffy winter coats with writing and logos all over it. The kid on my left was with two friends, which I did not know until we pulled out of Union Square and they began to speak to one another. One of his friends sat across from him, the other sat next to him on the other side of the subway bar that separates one section from another. (It’s a good thing there was that bar separating them, otherwise, everyone would have thought they were homosexuals.)
“Dude,” He began loud enough for me to hear. “This one time, this lady asked to sit down and I was like ‘maybe if you lost a few pounds in the ass you’d fit here.’ And she said, ‘why don’t you move your legs together a little bit?’ And I was like, ‘Bitch, yo, my dick is too big, yo.’”
He friend, the guy right to the left of me, the guy who refused to push his legs together so I could sit my fat ass down, laughed. And that’s when it happened, Internet. That’s when my head and body filled with pure, unfiltered rage, the kind of rage that takes place when you’re a soccer mom and another soccer mom cuts you off on the beltway, spilling your latte. All the while the gun your husband brought you for your birthday sits readily available in the Escalade’s glove box.
The whole leg thing would have made me mad in the past but I never would have said anything and the anger wouldn’t have lasted, it certainly wouldn’t have turned into rage. And even yesterday I fought the urge to actually speak but I did come close, so very close. Sentences filled my head, horrible x-rated, hateful sentences. I wanted to kick this kid in the face, the groin, punch him in his testicles making it impossible for him to one day breed other idiot offspring of his own. I was SO MAD.
This happens a lot but only when I’m out of the house dealing with thoughtless people. And then sometimes I just get mad at the big guy at the gym for telling me he needs to “work in” while I’m on a machine. (Can’t these people wait a few minutes? Jesus crap.)
I am worried that I might act on one of these moments and that can’t happen. I’m carrying a little dude now. I can’t be going around picking fights with men and thugs on a train. But I think about it a lot. And it’s usually with men, not women. Even if I don’t ever act on it, are these chemical fits affecting the baby?
Is this even normal?
Mihow 
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