Baby Brother Susie

I've tried to think of a more subtle way to say it, but "I'm pregnant!" seems to be the most direct and expeditious way to proclaim that we are expecting our second child.

With not even a full first trimester under both my literal and metaphorical belt yet, I have little to offer by way of detail. Gender, name, and even an official due date have yet to be determined. Although it looks to be yet another early August baby for our family. Pat, my mother, my sister, his brother, his nephew, and his niece are all born in the first week of August. Had she not decided to take the early train, our firstborn would've been born in that week as well. And to boot, my sister, who has been trying to conceive for 4 years, and was supposed to start fertility treatments last month, told me on the same day that the pregnancy test read positive for me, that she is also expecting a baby during that same time period. (Cue me starting to cry because I'm so happy that she's pregnant after all she's been through.) There must be something magic about November.

Our daughter, who at first suggested she didn't want a baby sister/brother, because she "already has one" (???) suddenly warmed to the idea, showing her solidarity by having a "baby" in her belly as well. (Yes, we totally know she's screwed up for life now.) Her "baby" doesn't seem to produce the same amount of trauma for her intestinal fortitude as does my own baby within, but her "baby" must be a demanding little booger because E frequently sticks the end of a baby bottle into her "bing bong" (what her cousin told her to call her bellybutton) to soothe the hungry beast within. She is often conflicted about the gender of her own "child", although it tends to usually be a "sister", but, with a measured amount of certainty, she proclaimed to me yesterday that my baby was definitely a boy and we should call him "Baby Susie". Perhaps we've had her listen to too much Johnny Cash.

While I'm still squeezing into my "skinny" jeans, at least for a few more weeks, I feel much more "pregnant" at this stage than I remember feeling with my first pregnancy. It obviously has a strong link to being a lot more sick this time around, but even the weird food combos have already kicked in to a degree. (Something I never really developed when pregnant the first time.) I have always scoffed at the mythical "pickles and ice cream" that has long lived in pregnant folklore, but the other night, when I was absolutely smitten with my brilliant creation of wheat saltines, smeared with a bit cream cheese, and sprinkled with dill weed -- I realized I was hardly a stones throw from topping my Breyers with some Gherkins.

2007 has all the makings to be quite a memorable year.