I’ve considered re-naming this blog…something like “I Might Write Monthly” or “Remember When I Used to Post Here?” It’s probably not worth apologizing for the lack of update, so I’ll just move on to what’s new.
We’re now 29 weeks pregnant, and now that we’re in the 3rd trimester, this gets more and more real every day. My belly has become like another person in the room, and every now and again, I remember that it is. The baby moves on a regular basis now and makes my bump ripple like a bag of jiffy pop, much to MKL’s delight.
Last night we went to a birthday party for one of the monkey’s many guncles (trans: gay uncles), and were reminded of how much love and anticipation has carried us through this process. We also encountered someone who’d had one too many margaritas and asked quite possibly the rudest question I’ve heard yet. Yes, worse than “When are you gonna get your waddle on?” A very sweet gentleman who had known us for all of 5 minutes looked at me and said, “How much have you gained?” Uh…whaaaa? Fortunately I was in full-on social butterfly mode and without skipping a beat I replied, “Enough to know that I don’t want to say the number out loud.” Pregnancy brain might prevent me from doing math, and makes me clumsy as hell, but at least it hasn’t removed 100% of my grace under pressure.
Throughout our conception efforts, we were fortunate to be immersed in the gay community. Our beloved Doc and Guru are both gay, and their practice caters primarily to lesbians. But the further along we get the more I realize that we are on a bit of a lesbian island in a breeder sea, even here in the very gay mecca of Atlanta. Last week I had to take the 3-hour glucose test (after I failed the 1-hour screen). I sat in our ob’s office, reading a book and waiting for the hourly blood draw. As I watched the door, I also waited to see another prego-lesbo walk in. I have a feeling I could’ve waited for a week or more with the same results. Mom after mom was accompanied by dad after dad. (I did pass the test, btw.) Today we went to our hospital to attend a group tour of the maternity wing. We were the third of eight couples to arrive. And while there were no other lesbians, I had to giggle to myself when I realized that MKL blended perfectly with the other guys in her cute plaid shorts and preppy t-shirt. However, the giggling was short-lived as we stood in one of the labor/delivery rooms and the RN/tour guide walked us through the process, showing us monitors, warmers, and describing all the possible delivery positions that the bed can accomodate. Delivery. Whoa. That’s when shit got real.
I have to say, though, that I was truly impressed at the RN/tour guide and one of the straight pregnant girls for their use of the words “partner” and “support person” in place of “father.” I did feel like the odd mom out, but not in a persecuted-minority way. We didn’t get “what are you doing here” looks. We got “hmmm…two chicks and a baby, huh?” looks. What last week’s appointment and today’s tour showed me is just how special our journey is, not just to us, but in a global sense.
This week: pediatrician interviews, movers to finish getting the nursery cleared out, and another prenantal visit wherein we will meet one of the other ob’s in our practice. Next up: showers, birthing classes, more nursery prep, and yes, more reality.