I’ve been keeping a secret. It’s been killing me to keep such big news under wraps. You know how women say, “Big news! No, I’m not pregnant.” NOT THIS TIME! I’m ready to reveal that I AM WITH CHILD. Preggers. Knocked up. Bun in the oven. Tin roof rusted (I don’t know if that means pregnant, but I like to think it does).
It feels so good to spill the beans. (I’m just going to use as many euphemisms here as possible.) There have been numerous occasions that I wanted to let the cat out of the bag. I’ve lamented about how many Facebook posts have been missed because I’ve been keeping mum:
- The day I thought, “Huh, what day is it? That’s interesting. I feel weird…maybe I should take a pregnancy test… How did this happen?! I mean, yay!!” #WhereDoBabiesComeFrom
- The day I started to cry like a baby in Margaret’s classroom because one of her teachers mentioned how much everyone is going to miss Margaret when we move to Washington. #PregnancyHormones #ICannotBeHeldResponsibleForMyEmotions
- The day Henning stayed home from work to get some things done around the house and then that evening I asked him how his day was at work—I work from home…we were together all day. #PregnancyBrain
- The time my brain and stomach led me to believe that waffles with maple syrup were the perfect breakfast. My brain and stomach are liars. Waffles are dead to me. #WhyYouBetrayMeWaffles
- The time I had to have a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit from McDonald’s or I would surely die. Fine, this happened twice. #McLovinIt #SoMuchHeartburn #IRegretNothing
- The time I went to Dunkin Donuts and they were out of sesame seed bagels. How dare they!! Don’t they know that’s all I can eat for breakfast?! #WhyDunkinWhy
- The time I laid down during Margaret’s nap one weekend and woke up over an hour later in a puddle of my own drool. #DoNotDisturb
- The day I was craving Thin Mints, but the Girl Scouts were nowhere to be found, so I had to settle for grocery-store knock-offs. I do not like mint chocolate. It makes me ill. But I had to have them! #TheDayMyTasteBudsBetrayedMe
- The time Henning and I had the following conversation before bed:
Henning: This is going to be awesome.
Me: Yeah, it really is.
Henning: Two kids. That’s great.
Me: Yep. I hope this baby sleeps.
Henning: Yeah, seriously. We might never sleep again.
Henning: ….Not sleeping sucks.
Michelle: It’s going to be horribly wonderful.
(Way to bring down the conversation, Michelle!) #WeAreScrewed
Aside from missed Facebook posts about my pregnancy-induced craziness and horrible all-day-long sickness, we kept Margaret in the dark until we could tell her whether she was going to have a “baby brudder” or a “baby disher.” For months Margaret has waffled between asking to go to the grocery store to buy a baby brother or sister—she thinks everything comes from the grocery store. (You laugh, but pay attention the next time you’re grocery shopping: there’s a baby aisle.) Recently she’s been focusing on getting a baby brother. We figured it would be best to tell her when we knew one way or the other—toddlers don’t do well with the abstract. Not to mention that Margaret LOVES babies, and everyone knows you shouldn’t trust a toddler with a secret.
I’m in the advanced maternal age category, which best I can tell means that you might look youthful, but your uterus and ovaries are hobbling around, waiting to go to the lady bits old folks home. The perks of being in this category, though, are that there are many more tests offered up by your OB/GYN to make sure your uterus hasn’t gotten grumpy in its old age. One of the tests I had is a relatively painless blood test that can detect chromosome abnormalities AND the sex of the baby. I’m not one of those people who thinks, “Let’s be surprised and wait an eternity to find out if we’re having a boy or girl.” There are plenty of surprises that come with a baby, and no matter when you find out the sex, it’s still a surprise. My point is that I love science and my mature age because we only had to wait 13 weeks to find out that Margaret is getting a…
We were excited to tell Margaret because she’s been firmly in the baby brother camp for weeks. We thought, “She’s going to lose her mind! She’s going to be so excited!” I’m sure you can see where this is going. The afternoon we found out we’re having a boy, we asked Margaret the following questions:
What do you buy at the grocery store?
Margaret: A baby brother.
Do you want a baby brother?
Margaret: Yes, at the grocery store.
Well, you’re going to have a baby brother. Mommy has your baby brother in her belly.
Margaret: No! A baby sister! <crying>
Being good parents, naturally Henning and I turned to each other and laughed.
After a little discussion, Margaret warmed to the idea of getting her wish. Now she’s fully on board and likes to lift my shirt to try to see baby brother and hugs my rapidly growing belly. It’s adorable, of course. She even apologizes to baby brother if she elbows me in the stomach, which happens nearly every night while we’re reading bedtime stories (sorry, baby brother!).
I have to say, though, I shared some of Margaret’s sentiment when we found out we’re having a boy. The first thing I said was: “But we have so many girl clothes.” Seriously, I’ve packed away all of Margaret’s clothes just in case we had another girl:
But no worries, when life hands you a penis, you go shopping to clothe it:
Baby brother is expected to make his debut mid-September. I’m 16 weeks right now and starting to feel like food isn’t enemy #1. My pants are a different story.
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