My pregphobia hit its height in the spring of 2006. I was living in New York City, hustling through life as a grad student (creative writing, need I say more?), a fundraising associate, and heavy drinker. My life consisted of: booze, books, friends, and boys, in that order. Obviously, not the time in life to be considering parenthood. Thankfully, that wasn't an issue for me, but it didn't mean I couldn't be frightened of it.
Pregphobia, as defined by my friend Janice -- a type of anxiety disorder, defined as a persistent fear of pregnancy or pregnant people.
That spring every woman in NYC was pregnant. Or seemingly so. I saw them everywhere with their bubbled stomachs. I remember a particular day when I was at the corner of Broadway and 6th Avenue with three pregnant ladies all in tight black dresses that emphasized their protrusions and another was crossing the street towards us. It was claustrophobic. They were swarming me like insects! Suddenly sweaty and woozy, I bolted from the corner and dashed for home.
To say I have mother issues is an understatement. Though in my defense, I think a lot of sane women fear the "John Hurt Moment". Let's face it, there is something alien about pregnancy...