you might wonder

The day after reading, in a pregnancy book, that the first sign of miscarriage is a general sense that you are no longer pregnant, I begin to wonder. I am not sick. I don’t feel nauseated. I’m not particularly hungry. I feel fine, actually. Is this a general sense that I’m no longer pregnant? Where are my signs? Sure, I’m falling asleep fifteen minutes into movies and at every other chance I get, but when in my life have I not been a sleepy girl? That’s just who I am.

After that, I decided to skip reading the section on “Pregnancy Complications” – I don’t need to know the things that could go wrong.

On the other hand, since there really aren’t any signs of miscarriage, wonder for a moment about the reality of having a baby. It occurred to me yesterday, after seeing Prince Caspian with my husband, that after we have a baby, we won’t be able to go to the movie theater on the weekends. Not without a babysitter.

I’m not ready to not be able to go the movie theater.

week seven

I feel fat.

I’m not supposed to be eating for two yet; but when I start to feel hungry, I start to feel nauseated, so I try to keep from ever feeling hungry. Which means I eat a lot. I have a pooch. And I am not talking about a dog.

The baby is the size of a blueberry.

(Not big enough to cause any pooching, incidentally.)

We decided this week to tell our grandparents, our aunts and uncles and cousins and close friends. It’s encouraging, when you feel unsure about all the changes, to tell people who are sincerely one hundred percent thrilled. It makes you feel like maybe you aren’t completely crazy after all.

So far, three out of four relatives have sent emails to me in pink fonts, indicating their expectation that my firstborn, like myself, my mother, my grandmother, and my great-grandmother’s older sister, will be a girl. One of the four wrote in blue…the lonely holdout voter for a firstborn son, like a Ron Paul supporter whose rEVOLution just isn’t quite catching on.