No, I haven’t abandoned you. I’ve been blogging a bit about babies elsewhere, and drafting and redrafting a book review that I will publish soon, honest gov.
Of course, it’s babies on the brain around here, as I practice my relaxation and breathing, argue with doctors over prescribing me antibiotics that clearly state they’re not to be taken during pregnancy and battle to make sure all my ducks are in a row before I leave work in four weeks (gulp).
It’s going to be so strange not working, but I have good intentions to keep up with everything religiously so I’m well-informed and ready to bounce back when I return. Good intentions that might fall by the wayside with my sleeping patterns, but at least the determination is there! I enjoy my job, and want to make sure a long break won’t affect it.
In the meantime, I’m now fielding more and more of The Questions, since I’m showing quite prominently now. There’s also The Comments (“you don’t look big enough for nearly seven months!” – er, thanks), but The Questions are a lot more unsettling. They seem to fall into rough trimester categories too:
First trimester / just post-announcement:
“Was it planned? / Were your trying?” Two questions so personal that if anyone stopped to think what they meant they’d never, ever ask them again.
“Do you want a boy or a girl?” I dunno. I’m kinda hoping for a kitten.
Second trimester / starting to show:
“How do you feel? / Do you feel sick?” Not. Everyone. Gets. Morning. Sickness. Also, I’m now paranoid I look as tired as I feel…
“Do you know what it is yet?” A baby?
“Are you going to find out what it is?” You mean, am I going to tell you. Maybe.
“I suppose it’s easier to buy for them once you know what they are, isn’t it?” Only if you live for stereotypes…
“How long do you have left?” In life? Who knows?
“Aren’t first babies always late?” *sigh* No. Also, ‘late’ and ‘early’ are faintly ridiculous terms when you consider that anything from 38 weeks to 42 weeks is a normal, full term pregnancy.
“Are you nervous?” Nah, not at all. Facing up to pushing a 7-10lb butterball out of myself for the first time, knowing that it’s a perfectly natural process but beset with negative impressions of childbirth from ridiculously inaccurate media portrayals doesn’t get to me in the slightest. *stare*
“Have you thought of a name?” Yes. No, I’m not going to tell you what it is.
In all seriousness, I sound much crankier than I actually feel, and I don’t really mind people asking me things; it’s nice that they care, or at least make a show of caring! Just once in a while it would be nice if the pattern varied, but hey, I’m sure I’ve done it myself in the past.
And once she’s out, I’ll probably default back to The Questions towards other people, too. Oops.