Monica Bielanko
That's What She Said
Just A Junk Drawer Dream
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Cat's Outta The Bag

I tell myself to quit being such a pussy, that trillions of women before me have managed to be pregnant and ultimately give birth but, my God... were they this sick? I knew I was in for it, I really did. I mean, I get car sick when I pause to read a map for a few seconds. How people actually read books in moving vehicles is beyond me. But Jesus, the puking and the puking and did I mention, THE PUKING?

Anyway, cat's outta the bag. Everybody knows. When Mom-In-Law Marian arrived to spend the week here Serge took her to our guest room. On the way he began apologizing profusely: Sorry, Mom, we have another guest coming and it looks like you'll have to share the guest room for the week.
Oh. That's okay,
she replied with a look of horror. Like, who could she possibly have to share the guest room with? Then Serge opened the bedroom door. With much of the baby's room in place; crib, changing table etc... she realized what he was telling her. Cute.

We had the ultrasound the other day. After reading all the harrowing online tales of no heartbeat etc. I was so nervous - but the second the technician touched the thing to my tummy the little fig-sized-soon-to-be lime-sized baby did an Olympic-style gymnastic tumble. Frog legs kicking all over hell and back. It's so strange to know it's moving so much in there but I can't feel a thing. Watching that little being kick and wave its tiny little arms - it was the first time this whole thing actually seems real. Serge must've felt the same way. The first thing he said was Man. I've gotta quit smoking.