I'm pregnant. I'm having a kid in Spring 2016. Some women have a very graceful first trimester. I am not one of those women. I've become inordinately fond of our Drexel Heritage couch. I've also developed a strong aversion to green apples, Saltine crackers, and basically the entire country of Greece. Here's a first trimester ultrasound picture of our little miracle:
|This is apparently from some horror movie. I found it on Google.|
My inability to tell you which movie probably speaks volumes about it.
I'm doing a lot better now. I'm currently in the middle of the "second wind" that, according to all the baby websites, hits after you stop puking and before your offspring obliterates the remainder of your internal organs. I'm solidly in the middle of the second trimester. The kid is doing well. He kicks me a lot. It's really bizarre to see and feel. Phil regularly compares it to the movie Alien. Here's a recent picture of the child:
|Did you fall for it again? This one's also from Google.|
Gestating life is occupying a lot of my time, but I've made a commitment not to publicize too much of the process. I know there are a myriad of reasons that can make seeing and hearing about someone else's pregnancy unpleasant. I'll keep you posted about big updates; for example, when the kid is born. I'll also let you know what delivery is like overseas. If you want any more specifics, like what size of pants I'm wearing, shoot me an email or give me a call.
Don't call if you're a stranger, though. I'm not going to discuss my pants size with a stranger.
p.s. Here's a funny Greek-ism one of Phil's coworkers told me about the other day at lunch: It's an old wives' tale that if you're pregnant with a girl, your face will start to become harder and more masculine because your daughter is stealing your beauty. So if an old, Greek woman tells you you're going to have a girl, what she's really saying is that you look terrible.