Yes, for real. The Boy is about to become a big brother. Due date is Jan. 1.
The husband has been laughing himself silly over that joke. He's been dying for me to use it as a Facebook status. I've alternated between dying to spill the beans and wanting to keep my secret. It's still a bit early -- I'm nine weeks along, to save you the math -- but I decided to just do it for several reasons. One, the news is spreading slowly anyway through our families, and I wanted to make the announcement myself. And two, it's been really difficult to write here when I can't say what's really on my mind.
This is what's on my mind, in no particular order:
When can I eat?
A nap would be lovely.
Seriously, MUST. EAT. NOW.
Oh god, why did I eat that?
Why?! Why?! Why is The Boy waking up at 5 a.m.?
Popsicles are good.
No, I don't want to share my popsicle with The Boy.
Would anyone notice if I napped at my desk?
There's more, but I think you get the point.
This pregnancy, so far, is a little different from my experience carrying The Boy. With him, I had only a little scent-induced queasiness in the first trimester, and this baby, though it hasn't made me straight up sick, definitely is causing some nausea. I was exhausted carrying The Boy, but could take hour-long naps every night after work. Obviously, with a busy toddler, that's not an option this time around, and I feel the difference.
But I still am finding great joy in being pregnant. With The Boy, I was shocked at how much I loved being pregnant. In the early days of carrying The Boy, I felt like I had this huge secret and I just wanted to hug myself. That feeling just increased as The Boy grew and rolled and hiccuped and kicked. It's nice to have that feeling again.