Month Three: August

Life has become predictable and formulaic. Everyone who hasn’t seen me for several days gingerly sidles up with a concerned look on their face and asks, “How are you feeling?” I know they care for my well-being, but I’m pregnant, for crying out loud, not suffering from dementia.

The ones who are just now finding out my good news go down the same litany of questions when they find out. I feel like standing there and using my fingers to tick off each question as they come, without fail, one after another:

1. “Have you been sick at all?”

2. “When are you due?”

3. “Are you going to find out what you’re having?”

4. “What names have you picked out?”

It really takes the spice out of life to answer the same questions all the time, day in and day out. To quote Ursula K. LeGuin, “The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty; not knowing what comes next.”

Chip says I’m just being crotchety.