I am pregnant.
Barely. Just six tiny weeks.
I had this vague notion that I would keep quiet about it until I was further along. And then the joy of giving that grand announcement at 12 weeks,
"I have seen the stares. Gotten the subtle hints about skipping that third donut. Please, no more worries. There is a baby in here. It is making me eat that donut. Thanks for your concern. Now who has a brownie?"
It seems that I might not be great at keeping quiet. I am not born of a quiet tradition. My mom announced the new baby pi on facebook. I find myself telling strangers in the grocery store,
"I know my cart has nothing in it but cheddar potato chips and canned frosting. Don't worry, I am pregnant. This is totally normal."
Of course, I am in Utah, and the woman next to me in line had four children and an 18 inch waist. Sneaking suspicion she does not consider frosting dipped cheddar chips "normal".
I think the baby is a girl. Riley says boy. I told Margaret that I am making her a best friend. She thinks I am magical.