The Word is Out

I've read half the pregnancy books on the shelves. I've set up a registry of tiny onesies and wooden rattle toys. I've howled over Darla perking up at the prospect of a meal, and over Gwen Cooper eating pickles out of the jar. Even my OCD is satiated, doesn't want to digest any more content. And it's 4.5 months to go.

So, biting my truand pen, I write.

* * *

The first thing to do is to catalogue all the things it has been affectionately called since we first detected its presence:

From the Aunts:
Sparkly (Krystal's precog dream)
Cousin It (Stephanie)

However, Jerry and me have imagined it progressing through the various kingdoms of the biologist's taxonomy:
Little Bean (which we seem to have unwittingly borrowed from Amanda and her family)
Little Froggie
Little Lemur
And, new this week, Little Avocado

We're grappling with whether Avocado represents a regression. Avocado, of course, is the vegetable comparison on the pregnancy websites to help us visualize the size of the fetus. So, while we now are imagining the baby as big as an avocado on the rack at the fruit stand, we are temporarily abandoning the image of those lemur-eyes and monkey fur that seemed appealing a few weeks ago. Understand this: we were imagining a very tiny lemur. But now I'm definitely showing, and Jerry is beginning to wonder how he is going to see over the expanse of my belly in a few months when we're watching TV together slouching on the sofa. The enormity of what is coming is overwhelming last month's wonder over the thought of 2 new arms and 2 new legs.... and lanugo!

* * *

After I attend tonight's Guild meeting, virtually all of my friends in NYC will know about the pregnancy. The next thing to figure out is which out-of-town friends should get a phone call, and for which ones will an email suffice. And which ones can find out soon enough on the infernal f*cebook.