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A little whine

We're settling down at home again. The crying part seems to be over and the remembering part has started, which is much nicer. My mom is making tentative plans to relocate to California, specifically to the house of my sister Janet, bless her. It will simplify our lives in the short term because it will be one less place to fly to in our baby's first year.

So here I am, going into my last trimester of pregnancy. When I got pregnant my OB pointed out that I'm tall and big to begin with and thus warned me that people would constantly accuse me of not really being pregnant. This has proven to be true. At work I wear loose scrubs, which camouflages a lot. But still, I didn't think I'd have to make it a point of telling people I'm pregnant, no matter what I was wearing, going into this last phase. People should know just by looking at me. Yet at work on Monday morning I had to tell someone who could not guess by looking at me why my back ached after bending over and pushing a bed. And today I went to get waxed, which involved taking off my pants for pete's sake, and the woman still clearly had no idea I'm pregnant. Max and Danielle say I'm crazy, that of course people can tell I'm pregnant, but I'm not sure anymore. I think the world thinks I'm getting fatter for no good reason. This should not be happening!
Then, when I tell people I'm pregnant, and they ask me "How far?" and I say "Six months," they shouldn't answer, "Oh, six months will go by just like that!" as if they are immediately assuming I'm saying I have six months to go, not that I'm six months and some days along. Yet alas, this very conversation happened this very weekend. Meanwhile, Jeff has a friend at school who is about a foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter and due within a couple weeks of me. She is currently being accused of being nine months pregnant with septuplets. It's a little unfair, because carrying a baby more subtly does not mean he isn't kicking you in the bladder as hard as he can at all hours. (He's a soccer prodigy, this kid.) I just want some sympathy, man. Anyway, here's me, week twenty eight. Twelve more weeks to go!
By the way, I really did go to San Diego with my friend Danielle last month, and it was cool, and there are pictures. And soon, perhaps this very week, you may see some.

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