...I might be losing it in here

How is a raven like a writing desk? Well, if Poe couldn't provide an answer, I surely have no idea, but I pose another question to you. How is the ante-partum department like a psych ward? It's like this...

There is a constant rotation of women in PJs, bathrobes, and slippers. There are a few of us long-termers, but mostly the faces are in and out. Very few of us feel "sick", but we still have to stay because there is in fact something wrong with us. Depending on the varying degrees of our "conditions", some of us have privileges to leave our rooms, (some of us even get to leave unsupervised!) To go to the "lounge" filled with long over-worn paperback romance novels or mysteries no one's heard of, out-dated gossip magazines with no "new" news, cooking or lifestyle publications from seasons or years past. If we're really lucky, there's a good TV movie on the one TV with cable in the whole department.
The best part though may be the volunteers with the arts and crafts. These little elderly women who come around in their pastel smocks, and invite you to join them in the lounge for craft time. They have a little plastic box they bring with them to showcase previous crafts made....photo frames with puffy paint, painted ceramic piggy banks, popsicle stick creations, all sorts of hot-glued-sick-people-sad little crafts intended to make us all feel better.  Isn't that adorable, and wouldn't we like to come with them??
Most of the time, being here is just inconvenient and annoying. But there are definitely times when the weight of the situation weighs down on you, and it can be really hard to get through the day. So, I can appreciate the intent behind the arts and crafts. It gives us something to do, something to focus on, a chance to get out of our rooms and possibly get to meet some other people in the department. But being wheeled through the lounge, past the "arts and crafts" table filled with empty-faced women in yoga pants, baggy T's, and bathrobes; pregnant women with various sized bellies blindly following the instructions of a woman who I will name Glenda because she just looks the type. Wheeling past and watching Glenda and her sidekick-in-comfort operate the hot glue gun for everyone as though the patients might be on a suicide watch...seeing all that just made me laugh. It reminded me of something out of Girl, Interrupted or One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.
Come on people, we're pregnant not crazy. .....Or are we?