Late in my pregnancy with Lorelei, I got rear-ended on the way back from an ob-gyn appointment. It was barely a tap, and there was no damage to either car, but the look on the other driver’s face when I lumbered out of the Subaru was absolutely priceless.
She was already apologizing before she even opened her door, but when she caught sight of me in my maternity smock things really got entertaining. My best assessment of her thought process was something along the lines of Oh my god I hit a PREGNANT woman oh my god oh my god oh my god I am so going to hell for this oh my god. It took less than a minute to determine the lack of damage to both cars but closer to ten before she calmed down enough that I felt comfortable letting her get back behind the wheel.
Yesterday, I was stopped at the end of an exit when I was rear-ended again. This time, the (extremely young) girl who hit me was completely unfazed by the fact of my pregnancy. I’m not sure it even registered; she may have thought I just spent a little too much time at the Two Guys burger shop down the street. She seemed remarkably comfortable about the whole event, in fact.
“I’m fine,” she said, smiling, as she hopped out of her car. “Hmmmm,” she said, as she peered at both bumpers (mine did sustain a bit of damage this time around). “It always feels so much worse than it looks, you know?” she asked, with the confident demeanor of someone who’s rear-ended many cars in her day. “We should exchange information,” she declared.
I, completely unhurt but somewhat rattled, dug around in my bag until I found a pen and a sheet of paper. I know that “exchanging information” after an accident is something one does, the same way one is expected to “pack a bag” for the hospital before the baby comes, but in both cases I’ve been somewhat fuzzy on the exact details.
I knew that Crash Gordon probably didn’t need my astrological sign, resting pulse rate, or preferred ways to spend my free time, but beyond that I wasn’t quite sure what info was necessary. Fortunately, she was able to walk me through it – I was actually somewhat surprised she didn’t have a printout all ready to go at her end, as she had clearly been down this path several times before. “Don’t forget to get my license plate number,” she said, helpfully stepping aside so I could see it.
The real question, of course, is why I keep getting rear-ended during my pregnancies. I’ve never been rear-ended before, and I fully expect it to never happen again unless I find myself pregnant a third time.
Eric helpfully pointed out that it may have something to do with my increased gravitational pull. I’m starting to wonder if someone gave Lorelei and the Chickpea powerful magnet sets to play with in utero. Will have to keep an eye on my belly to make sure I’m not starting to attract stray iron filings and paper clips.