I Don't Think It's Lunch

The first time you feel a baby move inside your body, you think, "Dang, those tacos are acting up on me." The second or third time, you think, "Wait, what was that?" Tapping? Fluttering? Does lunch flutter? Then, there's the first distinctive thump. And you think, "Ohhh," and recall with amusement the previous taco/lunch incidents.

I am pretty sure something is thumping around in there. And even though I have experienced this before, it is still a surprisingly sweet, alien experience.

Birds and the Bees Lesson #2: How to Tell if You're Pregnant

L: "Mom, I know how you found out you were going to have a baby!"
K: "Oh really? How?"
L: "Well, you went outside and got a stick from a tree. And then you peed on it and it turned pink and that's how you knew you were going to have a baby." Pauses, a grossed-out expression crossing her face. Accusingly: "Mom, you peed outside."
K: "I did not pee outside. So who told you all this?"
L: "Janet."
K: "Well, I did pee on a stick, but not the kind from a tree. It was a special plastic stick. And I was in the bathroom."
L: "Oh."

I Have 5 Years to Reach Enlightenment

Today is my friend Liz's 40th birthday. I don't think she will mind me telling you that, but she will be embarrassed by what I am about to say. Oh well.

Liz is my hero, and she has been since I was, oh, about 10 years old. She is deadly funny, a natural storyteller that could make you laugh your ass off while she described something as mundane as the weather. She is an amazing mother — raising with "love and logic" two kids of her own, the hundreds of others that become hers for a few weeks at a time each summer and advising the rest of us along the way. She's a great friend, the just-knows-you're-having-a-bad-day-using-her-powers-of-ESP kind of friend. But those aren't the reasons she's my hero.

Liz is a right person. She approaches the world with humor, humility, compassion and curiosity. When I think about the kind of person I want to be, it's somebody like Liz. Happy birthday, Mrs. G.

A Good Heart

A few weeks ago, I was having some shortness of breath, and went to my OB's office to get it checked out. The nurse took my pulse, then had another nurse come in to take it, then a third nurse, during which I said, "I know I'm not dead, but you guys are scaring me a little." Turns out they were just verifying that they'd all heard some "skipped beats."

They sent me to a cardiologist, who told me the so-called skipped beats were not actually skipped, but premature ventricular contractions, where the ventricle tries to initiate the heartbeat, interrupting the normal rhythm of the heart. He said it was a minor thing —  I could have had it my whole life, or it was stress and pregnancy-induced, or some combination of the three, and recommended I come back for a cardiac echo just to make sure my heart didn't have some underlying structural problem we should know about. He also suggested I relax and cut out caffeine. Ha and ha.

The cardiac echo revealed nothing more than a benign murmur ("Your heart is very strong") and the cardiologist sent me on my way ("See you when you're old, and maybe not even then.")

I am fine, and I am lucky.

Birds and the Bees Lesson #1: Where Babies Don't Come From

Please enjoy the first entry in what I am sure will be a series, to unfold over the coming six months. Warning: contains graphic, scientific and personal content.

So Jason informs me that he and Lucy were having a conversation about whether or not she will like Lemon (this is the name she has given Future Baby since I told her it was "about as big as a lemon").

Jason: "What if you don't like it? Can we put it back?"
Lucy: "NOOO, we can't put it back after it comes out."
Jason: "Why not?"
Lucy: "Because it won't go back in mom's butt."
Jason: "Oh."

Incredulous at the IMMATURITY of this conversation, I ask, "Did you tell her it's not coming out of my butt?!" Jason says, "No!" I say, "No?!" Jason says, "You tell her!"

So I do. Later that night, as I am tucking her into bed...
Me: "Lucy, you know the baby is not coming out of mom's butt, right?"
Lu: "That's where Alex told me it comes from."
Me: "Nope. Do you want to know where it will come from?"
Lu: "Uh huh."
Me: "My vagina."
Lu: "Oh."

In Case You're Why I Keep Referring to Myself as "Mama"

As in "Mama needs a cheeseburger" or "Damn, Mama's tired." It's because I am going to be a mama. Again.

Yes, it's true. At the end of August, there will be a new person living at our house. We are all excited, mostly Lucy. We told her Saturday before last and she kept wanting to see my belly, which she insisted was getting bigger (see cheeseburgers, above). Later that day, I was in the shower and she stuck her head in the bathroom to ask in a very grave voice, "Mom, how's the baby?" I replied, "Fine..." "Good," she said and shut the door.

When you next see her and she shares our news, please act surprised. She will likely say, "I have something VERY exciting to tell you! There's a baby in my mom's belly and it's just starting to grow in!" Just starting to grow in...like new grass or a bad haircut.