You Know You're Getting Big When....

I've not really been "public" with this latest pregnancy for very long.  First, it was revealed to the husband and a select few non-judgy friends. Then, to the trustworthy co-workers who wondered why all of that needed to be on my cafeteria tray. But finally last week, I made my reveal to the bosses at work . . . with mixed reviews.  I'm not going to name any names to protect the innocent (myself) and shield the guilty from the embarassment of poor manners, but telling folks you're pregnant with your third child really elicits a wide array of responses.  Just a few examples:

• The Happy For You Response = "Congratulations! You must be so excited!"
• The Effect On the Bottom Line Response = "How much time will you be taking off? when do you plan on coming back after the baby is born?"
• The Bewildered Response = "What number child is this for you?"
• The Population Control Response = "Do I need to explain to you how birth control works?"
• The Prying Response = "So, is this the last one?"
• The You Must Be Batshit Crazy Response = "Come March, you'll have three children ages 4 and under????"
• The Impressed Response = "Damn, girl."
• The Evasion Response = "You need to watch more Homeland."

I received all of these responses and then some. Most reactions were quite positive. And frankly, if I'm being honest with myself and all of you, in the end it doesn't matter how people react. WE are happy. WE are excited. And WE are the ones taking on the responsibility of feeding, clothing, and loving another human being, so it really doesn't matter how others feel about it.

Anyway back to the title and theme of this post....I'm glad that I'm finally "out" at work because it seems that I've "popped." There was going to soon be no hiding it anyway.  I've reached that point, at just 15 weeks and 4 days, this Thursday, where it's pretty obvious that either I have a baby growing in my loins or I ate 4 (delicious) Chipotle burritos for lunch and washed them down with a Big Gulp (yes, the drink ban was overturned, you can still get a Big Gulp in NYC). 

We had an unseasonably warm couple of days here in NYC (90s even!) and I must admit, I was sweating bullets when I got on the subway for the commute home the other night. I was coming straight from a client and carrying my heavy laptop bag with all mannet of shit in it. I got on the downtown D train at 42nd street, which was packed (Quelle suprise!) and this very sweet African American woman gave up her seat for me. That confirmed it. I must be really showing now.  Thankfully, the sometimes spiteful subway gods repaid her good karma with a seat just two stops later.

God bless you, kind lady stranger.