Private Show

I am now at the point in my pregnancy where, were I a celebrity, the gossip columns and the paparazzi would be speculating on whether or not I am pregnant and conducting a frenzied baby bump search. I would be ducking into my doctor's office wearing gigantic sunglasses and nondescript black clothing. As I am not a celebrity, only an administrator at a large, land-grant university, interest in my reproductive state is not a public matter; it is much more localized.

If you know I am pregnant, you could probably tell if I showed you my stomach, but I am not "showing" quite yet. This morning, I was laying on my back and put my hand on my stomach and the consistency has changed--it feels hard. Pete could feel the difference as well. At my appointment this morning, Edie confirmed this. And just walking around, I notice a difference in my midsection. Edie said I will be able to feel movement this month, but it will be slight, and I won't be sure, which is how I felt at the Steve Earle show and a couple of times since then. Pete won't be able to notice movement until around week 20. Today's appointment was just chatting and heartbeat. Oh, and they took blood. They just can't resist that.

Edie told me about an invention called a "belly band" that will allow me to continue wearing pants that I can't zip up, thus saving me from shopping and spending money for a little while. This is good, as I just added three pairs of pants to the pile of retired clothing. Well, hopefully, they are just benched because of injury and will be back into play sometime in the late-fall season.

I was thinking that I might have gained 8 pounds since my last appointment from all the Girl Scout cookies I have been eating since Sunday, but I only went up one pound to 155, which was nice to see (and entirely because of Cookies). Now I am regretting not bringing any Girl Scout cookies with me to work. I am feeling fidgety, like an addict, wishing I had some.

Or some french fries.

Yeah. French fries would be good.