The dark side of pregnancy is anger.

It can take many forms – from blinding, red hot rage to brooding, bitter resentment – but one thing is fairly certain (at least in my book): it's generally irrational. Or, at least, the extent of it is irrational.

And, of course, not every pregnant women experiences it. But I do. Early in my first trimester, I wrote, "I’m angry. Angry, angry, angry, all the time." The anger went away as the pregnancy progressed, but now that I'm in week 31, it's back. As it turns out, I'm a bit of a textbook case - at least according to this article, which states, "Most find that moodiness flares up at around 6 to 10 weeks, eases up in the second trimester, and then reappears as their pregnancy winds to a close."

That's me. Except that the word "moodiness" is euphemistic in my situation. The anger is a beast, and the beast is me. I wake up with it, go to sleep with it, live with it, fight with it, hate it.

I am sure hormones are to blame. I know this sounds weird, or like I'm rationalizing, which I probably am - but I think the hormones bring out a misguided maternal instinct. The anger "serves" to protect the fetus (except it's too crazy, so it doesn't. It's like using a snow plow to clean up a fallen ice cube). Stand too close to me? I get mad. Lurk behind me? I get mad. Threaten my baby's well-being in any way (and this can range from cutting me off in traffic to knocking too loudly on the door (yes, UPS man, I'm talking to you)) – I get mad.

Also, I create fictional scenarios and get mad about them. "No, we don't have your Nexium, and we won't have any until next week," I imagined the pharmacy clerk telling me this morning.

"But can't you just give me a few? Otherwise, I'll get sick," I imagined myself responding.

"Nope."

"You're saying I have to go without?"

"Yep."

"Isn't there something you can do?"

"Nope."

"Can't you call it in to a different pharmacy?"

"Oh. Well, I guess." (Clerk lazily looks out window, chewing gum and sucking up her excess saliva.)

"WELL, WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST SAY THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE? WHAT IS YOUR *#@&#$& PROBLEM!!!" I bang my fist on the counter, knock over some point-of-purchase energy packs.

(What really happened, of course, is I that I requested my medicine and was given it. But by then, I was seething with rage.)

I know I'm not the only one. Someone once told me that she got into a fistfight with a taxi driver when she was pregnant. And, naturally, I've Googled "pregnancy" and "anger" - and I've read what comes up. So I know there are lots of pregnant women out there who are mad at the world, just like me.

Photos from iStock

This post was originally published in January 2011.