It’s my party…

This weekend we’re heading home early Saturday morning, for a baby shower thrown by my husband’s sisters on Saturday afternoon. We’ll stay with my folks for church, then have lunch and clown around a little bit, and have a baby shower thrown by the church. Then stay overnight and get Matthew’s orthodontic stuff checked on and head back home.

I’m not sure I’m really prepared for all the attention to be lavished on me this weekend. Matthew gives me enough to feel like yes, I’m still pregnant and he is just in love with this baby, so I feel like I have enough. My mother and his contact me often enough…and really, what is there to say otherwise? I’m still pregnant, the baby is doing it’s little gymnastics, we still don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl and we’re not blabbing on the names. Once people find that out, they kind of lose interest. For whatever reason, those seem to be the two most important things to people. I guess because it gives them a jumping off point for something to say next.

I did, however, talk to my friend Stacy on the phone last night for almost 4 hours. We had plenty to say to each other. And I asked her questions, which she answered honestly and didn’t give me an attitude, like, what is WRONG with you, even though some of my questions were probably odd. I feel reassured that I’m doing normally as possible (for me) emotionally and physically with the pregnancy. Which is nice.

I’m sure I’ve mentioned I haven’t had a whole lot of ‘crazy’ feelings, in fact I’m so calm most of the time that I hardly recognize the ‘girl’ I used to be. Which is fine. I don’t really feel like a ‘girl’ anymore. Hard to feel ‘childish’ when you have a child growing inside you. Also most of the time I feel like having any wild emotions or fits would be, I don’t know, inappropriate? What do I have to have a fit about? I’m relatively healthy, I have food, shelter, a loving husband who still would like to be my husband on any and all terms every single day, and lets me know, and who looks forward to parenting this child, not just on being ‘a dad’-I’m not neglected, made fun of, abused or otherwise mistreated. I’m living the high life, being taken care of and attended to by a creature who looks, smells, and kisses like my husband, but with an extra ‘oomph’– and I like it! It really is my party, no reason to cry, even if I want to!

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