Was the first trimester just awful? No, it wasn't. Because I'm a total dingbat. I didn't notice that I was pregnant until I was 2 months. And then, I thought I was only 4 weeks. I felt pretty fine, except for feeling like I'd been hit by horse tranquilizers. Several weeks later, when we went to the doctor for the first time, we told her that we were almost 8 weeks. Imagine our surprise when on the ultrasound, not an 7 1/2-week old grape-sized embryo showed up, but a little fetus with arms, legs and a face, and the doctor said, "I think you're a little farther along than you think you are." We were almost 12 weeks, at the end of our first trimester. So, for us, the trimester just flew by in ignorance and dingbattedness.
Have you been trying for very long? Isn't this a funny question that people ask? It's basically just asking, "Have you been having lots of unprotected sex for a long time?" Once you're pregnant, all kinds of taboo topics are on the table. In any case, no, we have not.
Are you going to give the baby a short name... (I hope)? No way. Mike is extremely proud of his ridiculously long name (Michael Jonathan Van Schooneveld), and definitely favors names such as "Anaximander," "Chaerephon," or "Artaxerxes." So I don't think we'll be naming our baby "Chad" or anything so easy and unpretentious. Our top name in contension for a girl right now is four syllables. Perhaps his long name is why Mike was always so skilled in spelling and writing.
Are you going to find out the gender? Heck yes I am. We have to know whether or not we will be painting "Anaximander Cornelius Van Schooneveld" or "Victoria Velociraptor Van Schooneveld" over the crib before baby arrives.
Are you going to call your baby a miracle? No. Being pregnant doesn't mean I will cease to use words according to their meanings. I'm an editor; so sue me. I may call my baby amazing ("to affect with great wonder, astonish"), wonderful ("eliciting wonder, marvelous"), or incredible ("so extraordinary as to be hard to believe"). But I won't claim that the natural (though divinely designed) act of childbirth is a miracle ("an event inexplicable by the laws of nature, held to be an act of supernatural intervention"). My mother, however, informs me that she will call my baby a miracle whenever she darn well pleases, which she can because she's the grandmother.
Are you so excited? Yes, we are. Neither of us have ever had that inner compulsion that seems to speed all other mammals toward procreation. Nonetheless, now that I am procreating, I figure there's nothing better to do than to just immerse myself in all the little fun and exciting aspects of it. This weekend, Mike finally agreed to go look at baby stuff at Target with me (for no real reason other than to have some outlet for baby excitement). I made my first silly and unnecessary baby purchase: a very cute denim tube top (with a loose, ruffly waist) for once I have a bump. I figure I won't need to buy any maternity clothes (since all my summer clothes are flowy dresses), so it can be my one little splurge.
I can tell Mike is excited because he has suddenly turned into a sentimental sap. Case in point: The other morning, I found Mike sitting on the bed, listening to a touching country song about family while looking at a picture of the ultrasound. It's pretty cute.