So I haven’t updated this blog in quite a long time. To be honest I felt like I ran out of things to write about — and there were also things afoot (pun intended) that took me out of the alcohol-blogging game for a while.
Yep, I’m 19 weeks pregnant!
The ultrasound tech told us it’s a little boy and even printed out snapshots of his, uh, boy parts, helpfully labeled “BOY.” I am not posting those because a) even with the label those pictures look like a bunch of blur to me, and b) I feel that it really should be Baby’s choice whether pictures of his boy parts appear on the internet, a choice that he will ideally make after the age of NEVER.
So that’s what’s going on with me! I have to admit I’ve had an easy pregnancy so far — very little morning sickness, no weird cravings or wild emotional swings, just a propensity for napping. But no matter the symptoms pregnancy is an odd time. This is our first kid and we’re staring down the barrel of a massive life change, one that I don’t think you can ever be quite prepared for no matter how much you try to prepare. It’s also a bit lonely to do this so far from family or a real network of friends — I realized this week that it’s unlikely I’ll get to have a baby shower, for instance, which made me kind of sad. Finally, I’m planning to use my maternity leave as a chance to re-evaluate my career path (that longed-for tenure track job, alas, never materialized, and is unlikely to do so given the age of my PhD), which comes with its own raft of anxiety and uncertainty and sheer blind terror.
But: tiny little baby feet! A first grandchild for my parents to cuddle, the first great-grandson on my mom’s side, a little cousin for my nephew to play with,* and a whole new little person to bring into our home! And life changes are scary but staying in one place because of fear is no way to live, or at least that’s what the inspirational poster I saw on Pinterest told me.
Now, can someone please tell me how to pick a name? Or what stroller I should buy? Or how many dinosaur onesies is too many? (Kidding about that last one, obviously there is no way to have too many dinosaur onesies.)
* Or, more likely, “regard with bemused boredom until he becomes old enough to boss around.”