Archive for January, 2009

I feel fine.

Every day I am tempted to get a shirt printed with the following list of answers to the questions that seem to go part and parcel with my big baby belly: 


  • I feel fine.  Chances are I will feel fine when you ask me tomorrow too but ask anyway because I really want to tell you about every ache and pain and twinge.   


  • February 18th.  I would possibly add to that “Oh, well that’s nice” when told that their daughter/niece/cousin/father-in-law’s/next door neighbor’s birthday is February 2/12/24/6/19/27th. 


  • No, it would not be cool if my baby is born on February 14th.  I personally think it would be a real drag to have your birthday on any holiday, let alone the most commercial and meaningless holiday of all. 


  • No, I don’t know whether it is a girl or boy.  That’s nice that your daughter/niece/cousin/father-in-law/next door neighbor found out though. 


  • No, the nursery is not ready.  But you’ll be the first to know. 


And this three-parter: 

  • Yes, of course we have some names picked out but no, we have not decided.  I never once even considered picking out baby names before the prospect of having a baby was real.  I will decide what to name my child when I have spent a little time with him/her. 


  • It’s none of your business.  In response to the inevitable question of what my name choices are. 


  • “Mmm hmmm, that’s nice” to a) the list of names that you will inevitably tell me you like and b) the name that your daughter/niece/cousin/father-in-law/next door neighbor decided on. 


It is nice that so many people seem concerned about my wellbeing these days but for the love of pete!  I am getting asked the same four questions by everyone I meet, not excluding strangers (cashiers, co-workers I’ve never met before, and random shoppers at the grocery store, to name a few).  And it’s worse when you actually know the person a little bit.  I swear the same five ladies at work ask me the same four questions at least once a week. 

It gets old after 35 weeks.  That’s all I’m sayin’.

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My niece was full of wonder at my big ole pregnant belly when we visited on Boxing day a couple of weeks ago.  Honestly, so am I but it’s a lot cuter coming from a three year old.  

“What is that big belly for?” she asked, several times through the day. 

Her mother and I would explain that there was a baby growing in there, just like she grew in her mommy’s belly.  She would look at me funny but seemed to accept the explanation and went on to the next Christmas toy, only to have the same question pop up again an hour or so later. 


Fast forward to bedtime, laying on her bed and reading a story. 

“What is that big belly for?”, she asked again.

“Remember?  I told you there’s a baby growing in there!  A new cousin for you that you’ll be able to meet in about two months”. 


“Well, the baby needs to grow in there a little bit more.  You remember how big baby Lucy was [another cousin who recently visited]?  The baby needs to grow almost that big before he comes out and meets you”.

She put my hand on my belly and I said, “Sometimes I can feel the baby move in there”.  


“Well, because someitmes he needs to stretch and he pushes on my belly because there’s not a lot of room in there”, I responded. 

She looked at my belly, the gears in her mind grinding away.  “Poor baby”, she said, realizing how cramped the baby must be in there. 

And back we went to the story book, me thinking that her curiosity was satisfied.  A few moments later she abruptly pulled up my shirt and began looking at my belly again, putting her hand on it.  I thought, “How cute!  She wants to feel him move!”. 

But then she put her arm up in the air and came down on my belly with a big ole slap that smacked out really loudly!  I’m still not sure what was going through her mind to make her do that but her face wasn’t angry or upset so all I can imagine is that it was still curiousity and her way of saying hello.  All I could do was laugh and then she laughed and we went back to the book. 

A few minutes later she said, “How will the baby come out of there?”. 

I said, “Well … ” and I looked at her and back at the book.  Then I looked at her.  And then back at the book. 

All the while I was thinking that really the only two explanations were a) the bellybutton, which is freaky enough to give her alien-like nightmares (even to a 30-year-old) or b) the truth, which seemed a little deeper than I wanted to get with her over Dr. Seuss. 

So I just ignored the question and we went back to the book.  When I went back downstairs, I gave her mother a good warning of the questions she was going to get the next day.  Apparently she didn’t but she DID go around all day sticking her belly out and saying she was me. 

Too frigging cute.

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