Before I begin, I want to take a moment to reflect on a milestone; today marks two weeks since I have been admitted to the hospital. I’ve survived two whole weeks!

We’re lucky here at high risk obstetrics that we have a little patient lounge (slightly ironic because it does not encourage patience among the 20 expectant mothers on the floor) that includes a TV, microwave, kettle, fridge, and is stocked with books, magazines, videos, and games for kids.

While it’s lovely to have somewhere to waddle to when my teeny curtain area is driving me up the wall, it can be a frustrating experience. Much like in the office kitchen, the lounge can quickly be taken over by mess. And yes, I know what men have been saying about women being messier, is true.

I usually just waddle down to the lounge to get water about 50 times a day since it’s so dry in here, but usually don’t hang out much in there since there’s always people in there with their guests.

This weekend, Santa came, and every time I went in there, it seemed to just be getting messier and messier. Food covered every surface and garbage was all over the floor. Often, you’ll find people’s food trays in the lounge, abandoned with their picked-over meals, as well as their garbage.

Monday, I had enough. It was disgusting. Not sure if people just assumed someone would clean it up, but I don’t see how it’s someone else’s responsibility to clean up that type of mess. We’re all old enough to have children, which means we’re old enough to know better. I tidied up the books and magazines, threw out the garbage and recycling, dumped people’s drinks, and wiped down the surfaces. When I told Jas, he looked at me like I was a crazy person, and possibly infectious with insanity. “You CLEANED the lounge? It’s not your job to do that.” But, I kind of feel like it is, we all live here, some of us for months and months, and others just a few short days, but why should we take our chill space and turn it into something gross just out of sheer laziness?

The lounge itself is touch and go. I find it hard to be in there as it can quickly be taken over by people and their guests, even when you’re already watching TV or eating a meal, but also because sometimes, the other women can come in and it becomes a time to gripe about our food (it’s awful, there’s no denying it), being stuck here, our babies, our situations, or even things we have absolutely no control over and are not being affected by, like the weather. (Oh, is it cold outside? I haven’t been outside in two weeks to notice.) Being here is hard, no one would deny that, and it’s extra hard since it’s Christmas, but the constant reminders and complaining do nothing to make any of us feel better.

So, I waddle back to my curtain, with my water, plug in my headphones, and watch something, because what else am I going to do?