Posted by Duff

Ok. So in case you didn’t know I’m pregnant, I am.

If it makes you feel any better, I told my husband in a much sweeter way – I put the Dervish in a “Big Sister” t-shirt that he saw but ignored, assuming I’d done so because her other shirt was covered in yogurt. Fortunately, The Dervish then clocked me and I put her in time out, and while she was there and we had a moment alone, I handed him the pee stick.

I simply handed him the pee stick to notify him about The Dervish’s brand new existence, so I guess he didn’t expect fanfare this time.  But I decided, and he has since jumped on board, that since this is a different person, we are going to make this experience different from the very beginning.

And The Mystery Child is helping. I sure was wrong to worry about being tired. MC has me raring to go at all hours of the night, even in utero. MC doesn’t like meat, citrus and chocolate like The Dervish did, but prefers carbs, pumpkin anything, and apples.

But before I confess what I really think will have you laughing at me, I want to say that almost immediately after learning I was pregnant (which I learned in the bathroom, at work, on a dare from She Knows Who She Is), I immediately felt sad for The Dervish. We said she needed a sibling (chapter two of her handbook is titled “I Need A Sibling” if there was any question), but I got sad for her having to share us. But in the moment, I was most sad for her because no matter whether this pregnancy lasted a few hours or went full term and delivered that sibling, I would never think of her as my only child ever again.

It’s hard for me to think of myself (and her) abstractly, projected into the future. I’m excited for the both of us – for the four of us, but when I got home that day, I started looking at The Dervish differently. With the eyes of borrowed time. And it made me love her more, if that’s even possible.

But let’s laugh at me instead. One thing that has been similar with both pregnancies is my tendency to cry for inane reasons. Like ugly cry, not just tears, but facial contortions and gasping for breath sobs.

Last time:

“Copacabana” by Barry Manilow made me cry. I would be aerobicizing to my cable provider’s ‘Party Favorites’ station, and each time this ditty came on, and there was blood and a single gun shot but just who shot who, I would collapse on the couch in sympathy for poor Lola. I mean, ladies, she lost her love.

This time:

The final scene of Grease, when they’re at the carnival made me cry. I was watching it with my husband, who, though in his 30s, had never seen it, and I was trying to convince him it was iconic to our generation, and he needed to. But as we got closer to the final moment where Danny and Sandy take off , into the sky –mind you, in a convertible– I started blubbering. Partially because that’s when the gang starts singing “We’ll always…be to-gether…”, but more because I was embarrassed for Grease, for being so campy, and because my husband was about to be proven right in his utter distaste for this kind of ending. He liked my reaction much more than the convertible launch, you can imagine.

Ok, and both times:

“The Devil Went Down to Georgia” by the Charlie Daniels Band made me cry. I’m sure this one makes you scratch your head. What in the name of Sam Hill is wrong with me? Honestly, I think part of it is this song reminds me of being about five, and carefree, and I always got so psyched when he says “you sonofabitch” because I hadn’t learned the real money swears yet. And I’m highly nostalgic when hormonal. But the real issue at hand? I’m just so freaking proud of Johnny when he beats The Devil at fiddlin’ that I just want to give him the old attaboy.

So there you have it. I’m a freak, and I’m being trusted, so far, with another child – ETA: Mid-May.