So let's get the party started with an announcement: Yes, I'm pregnant.
Thanks so much to those of you who posted or emailed me with your hopeful congratulations after my not-so-cryptic previous post. You guys are so sweet. In retrospect, I realize how obvious my mention of pending big news was. I mean, how many top-secret, big-big-SUPER-BIG announcements does your average middle-class person make in their lifetime? If you're already married, that pretty much leaves just the one. I guess it could've been a shocking surprise -- I just realized I'm gay! I'm joining the army! I'm secretly a conservative! -- but I'm not that interesting.
If you're wondering, the baby -- to whom I like to refer as Doppelganger Junior, aka DJ -- is due sometime around the middle of March, which puts me squarely at the halfway point of this pregnancy. How's that for keeping a secret, huh?
So now that we're not keeping secrets any more, here are three full-disclosure things I will tell you about me and pregnancy:
- Hormones can turn even the most mild-mannered -- or, if not mild-mannered, so passive-aggressive as to SEEM mild-mannered -- person into a total psycho hosebag. To wit, the day Rusty came home from work early because he'd made the mistake of calling me midday to say hi, only to have a blubbering, incoherent freak answer the phone. Said freak (okay, it was me) was unable to make him understand that really, no, REALLY, nothing was wrong, so he rushed home. Why all the hoo-haw? Because the neighbour's lawnmower had woken me from a (clearly much-needed) nap.
You know that "glow" people are always saying we pregnant folk have? That glow is the sweetly unadulterated incandescence of batshit craziness.
- I secretly love maternity clothes, especially those jeans with the full panel that goes practically up to your sternum. I'm sorry, but you are just never going to find comfort like that with regular pants. And the skirts? Oh my god, they're the closest thing to feeling like you're walking around naked. Admittedly, I don't think the phrase "Man, those maternity jeans make your ass looks FABULOUS" has ever been uttered by human lips, but I can live with that.
(Important addendum: Yes, I love maternity clothes. ON PREGNANT PEOPLE. I don't know what young ladies these days are thinking. Back when I had a waist, I wasn't hiding it underneath empire waistlines and trapeze jackets. But hey, whatever, that's your nevermind. You're making my clothes shopping easier.)
- God or Mother Nature (or whatever deity you prefer to abuse when you swear) has cursed me with perhaps the cruellest trick that he/she/it has ever played: Though my early-pregnancy nausea has finally passed, I'm left with a complete aversion to chocolate. Which, if you know me, you know how devastating a blow this is. When I was pregnant with Sam, we were both giddy and drunk off the kilos of chocolate and chocolate-related products we consumed regularly... which could explain the sixty glorious pounds I gained. Can little DJ show some similar cooperation? Noooooo... he/she's all like, "Mm-mmm, I sure could go for a nice refreshing SALAD right about now." I'd better get something really friggin' good for Mother's Day.