This week, I started to notice that my pants suddenly stopped buttoning again. In the first two months, the baby was down in my pelvis near where my pants buttoned – so it bulged a bit down there and I couldn’t quite button my pants. Yes, I felt quite attractive with my bloated pelvis. Then the baby (and my uterus – is it gross to say the word uterus? I don’t know. Maybe that’s weird to talk about.) moved up to near my belly button, so I could button again. Yesss.
Not any more, sister. My belly is growing and it’s taking over…
Lots of you asked how we shared the news with our parents. (This will be the first grandchild for my parents and the sixth for my in-laws.) I wasn’t doing so well with the saying the words “I am pregnant” – I cried the first two times I told people – so I decided to give them something that would speak for me. I waited until I was about 10 weeks along, just to be safe.
I ventured into the baby section of Target and squealed in my head at all the adorable, but not before learning on sizing a baby’s foot, because I want to run back to Target for an exchange. I found this pair of booties:
(Photo not by me – I unfortunately deleted the photos off my camera because I like to ruin pretty pictures and find ugly ones on the internet, apparently.)
I wrapped them up, along with a “I Love Grandma” bib and gave them to my parents when we arrived for the weekend with an oh-so-casual “Oh, I forgot to give this to you guys at Christmas.”
My mom was grinning this HUGE smile like she knew what was going on. She prodded my dad to open the gift and he just stared at it.
“Do you know what this means??” my mom asked my dad, giddy as a little girl with a secret.
My dad looked at me, “So, is this true?”
I nodded, my eyes filled with tears.
He was delighted. My dad isn’t what you’d call a very loud, enthusiastic guy – so when he said quietly, “I’m really excited about this,” it was as if he was jumping up and down.
My little sister was turned away from us; I tapped on her shoulder and she slowly turned around, tears streaming down her face. “I just can’t believe it. I mean, it’s real.” (Emmie has been begging me for years to make her an aunt.)
My little brother was standing in the kitchen with us, but completely expressionless. Mike asked him if he understood what was going on, and he just nodded slowly.
My mom, apparently, has a sixth sense. And has decided that our baby will call her “Nana.” My mom becoming a grandma makes me feel older than myself having a child. Is that odd?
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