It is not every day that you are asked to give your opinion about a baby's name when the baby didn't actually physically come from you in any manner. Today, when Helen and I visited the newly born baby Kim, we were asked our opinion on the spelling of the first name, which thrilled me.
I like to pretend I'm not opinionated, and I can be very indecisive, but when I have an opinion, it's normally very strong. It's a curious mixture of my mom's "got to be right at all times" attitude and the beaten down nature of a child who's had to live with that mother for years.
I'm not proud to say that I was very opinionated about the spelling choices for the name.
The baby Kim is adorable, and tiny. I was too afraid to hold him, and I was terrified watching Paul hold him. All I could think was that Paul would drop him and our friendship with the Kims would be done forever. (How can you forgive even the spouse of the person who has dropped your baby?) I fussed and fussed over the way Paul was holding the baby, silently admonishing him whenever I felt he wasn't standing in a manner which was steady enough. Paul, being less of a nervous Nellie, and more of a person who has held multiple children, simply ignored me and continued to hold the baby without dropping him.
After a few minutes, Paula started to tell us about the birthing, and it assured me that I would not be able to deliver without some drugs of some sort. My mother-in-law's ability to shove six babies out of her body without drugs now strikes me as some kind of super human power. Clearly, her superpower is birthing. My own is paranoia, which does not make birthing easier.
While at the hospital, Tom tried to sway us (Helen, Paul, and I) into believing that his first choice for the baby's name was better than the name agreed upon. However, as Paula didn't like the name, Helen and I fully supported the agreed upon name. As Paul later put it, both parents get veto powers over names. (In my heart of hearts, I think females should get the first choice. I can tell you from experience that pregnancy isn't easy for me, and I think the naming would be a nice reward.)
I'm now in week 21 of my own pregnancy. I envied Paula the fact that her baby was no longer in her. Kittle is draining me of energy, and making me sick most of the time, once again. Further, I no longer fit comfortably into normal jeans, and my skin feels oddly stretched now. I am finally showing if I wear my normal non-loose t-shirts. My recommended amount of food for a person at this time at one sitting is a half of a handful or less. I frankly don't even know how I could gain more than thirty pounds during the whole pregnancy at this point. Eating the amount of food that I used to eat normally is making me sick even when I space it out. Perhaps in months 7-9, I shall feel normally hungry or even hungrier once again. Nowadays, I simply want to throw up after every meal.
As I told Paul when I burped after I woke up today, "Pregnancy. It makes me glamerous."