Wait, Did You Want More Details About that Baby Thing?

Yeah, that was the impression I got. But be forewarned that this is NOT about to become a pregnancy blog because . . . well, because I would find that boring to write. Besides, what would I do with all those stories about woodchucks and self-injury?

So. First things first: My due date is at the end of February. This means two things: 1) This child had better be nice and fat for insulation purposes, because Blackrock is no warm haven at the end of February. As I'm sure you remember. And 2) I did not share this news with you very promptly.

I had to wait, you see. I first found out myself when A. was on his big trip, so I had to wait until he got home before I could tell ANYONE. Then, I waited until I'd been to the doctor for the first time to tell the immediate family members (I haven't been sick or anything, so part of me was thinking I was making the whole thing up). THEN, I waited until after we heard the baby's heartbeat for the first time before we started telling the rest of the family members, friends, etc. And only after we had told everyone we knew in real life did I tell the world at large online. In fact, I waited until after I had my first sonogram, at which it was determined that the kid has all its limbs, a nose, both brain hemispheres, all major organs, and seems to be quite active. I have the blurry pictures to prove it.

I foresee much painful kicking in the future.

But now, no more waiting to tell. The game is up. Everyone knows that, no, I'm not just getting plump from too much ice cream--I have an excuse for my pot belly, dammit. Also an excuse to make A. do all the mowing.

I love this pregnancy thing.