Yes, folks, you read that right — I am in the family way.
I love all the euphemisms surrounding pregnancy. My favorite is “enceinte,” which French for “with child.” I guess anything sounds better in French!!
Then you have all the secrecy surrounding being pregnant throughout history. A woman used to have to withdraw from society, not to be seen except by close friends and families. Big bellies were something to be hidden, not celebrated. Even when women of my mother’s generation were pregnant, the bellies were hidden as much as possible by garments as huge as possible.
Imagine the horror a Victorian gentleman would experience if he were dropped down in the 21st century, when pregnant women wear form-fitting clothes to showcase their bellies, instead of hiding them away and retiring behind closed doors. Now that, my friends, cracks me up.
So yes, I am pregger. To answer all possible questions: No, I am not morning-sick. Yes, I am tired. No, I don’t have a due date as yet (I went for my blood test yesterday, but won’t see the doctor until at least the end of the month). No, we won’t find out the gender of the baby till it’s born.
I have already started breaking out with massive pimples, which happened with my last pregnancy too. The nurse-midwives ended up putting me on antibiotics when I was pregnant with Grace because I just couldn’t handle them anymore. I have one right now on my neck which is enormous and painful. I’ve already had a couple on my chin, and I know from past experience that they won’t heal for weeks. *sigh* I know it’s a minor thing, but dang, it’s an aggravation.
It could be worse.
And on to other good news:
My daughter seems to be fully potty-trained!! OK, not fully. I don’t even want to think about trying to potty-train her at night. But during the day, we are golden!!!
You know she was already going to the bathroom on her own. She has been really good about it, and she hasn’t had an accident since we started bribing her with candy. We’ve even stopped with the candy already, and she’s still all going to the potty. She still gets five Smarties for pooping in the potty; I figure she deserves it for not making me clean up a poopy diaper anymore. But we had tried putting her in some Pull-Ups (disposable training pants, for my overseas friends) when we left the house, and she knew they were nothing but glorified diapers, which gave her no incentive to use the bathroom. We’d go to try going potty in the store, and she would already have peed in her Pull-Up.
On Saturday, we bit the bullet and dressed her in big-girl undies and jeans. No Pull-Up. And we crossed our fingers. It took us probably a good two hours to get to Boston (long story), and then she still didn’t need to go. Finally in the zoo she asked Daddy to take her, and she went! All day long, she stayed totally dry. Ever since then, she’s been wearing big-girl undies. Every morning when I go in her room, she immediately takes off her diaper and finds a clean pair of undies to put on. From that moment, she stays dry.
I love it!!
And now I’m staring at more diapers in just a few months. *sigh* That was brilliant on my part, wasn’t it? At least I won’t have two kids in diapers at once!! My grandma had three, once. My mom was 2 when her brother was born, and when the baby was 10 months old, Grandma gave birth again to another son. So Grandma had three kids under the age of 3, and my mom was insistent that she did not want to be potty-trained yet. This was the 50s, so I don’t think they had disposables back then. I sure hope Grandma had a diaper service!!