When I was waiting for Scrunch I wanted to tell EVERYONE and ANYONE that would listen that I was going to be getting a baby. But when I stood in the check-out line with my little pile of pink no one asked me anything. I wanted so badly to tell everyone. How could they have known? I was more than happy, almost eager to tell them. It's a girl! She's due in January! Our birth mom looks fabulous! She's happy, and smart! She's going to be beautiful! But I only got a few chances to share the news.
Some things are different this time around, obviously. Least of all the fact that I'm not dependent on anyone regarding bringing my baby home and that I don't have to get permission from anyone for a damn thing. The state does not care about the my living conditions this time around. How easy it is to take things like that for granted. And the questions. Oh the questions! This time, I get asked something everywhere I go. Not that I'm not excited, truly we are, but really grocery check out lady, why do you even care?
"Is this your first?" This is my first pregnancy, but I have a two year old daughter. Great adoption awareness conversations as well as blank, "Um, okay." stares have followed that one.
"When are you due?" May 19th.
"Do you know what you're having?" A boy.
"Do you have a name?" Erick. NOT GEORGE no matter what my husband tells you. Followed closely by, "Do you have a middle name?" James. His blogger name is still yet to be determined.
"How are you feeling?" Ever since my husband's holiday party where he pleaded that I not describe Braxton Hicks contractions as "my hoo-ha squeezing" I'm not sure how to answer that one. I feel pregnant. Do people know something I don't? I'm pregnant, not sick.
"Is Scrunch excited?" Scrunch gets excited about waving good-bye to poop in the toilet. How do you accurately measure what her emotional state is regarding becoming a sibling? If you ask her if she's going to be a big sister she'll tell you yes. And she knows that she is going to have a baby brother. Any more than that and I think we're reading too much into a two year old's psyche.
"Do you have the nursery ready?" No.
"Are you ready?" Ready or not, I think I'm in this for the long haul. What am I supposed to say there? Um, no? I don't know? Too bad if I'm not? I think I am, but how would I even know?
Did I miss anything?
Betcha I make forty-thousand and one before I leave Target the next time.
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