- We wanted to wait until the kid was far enough along that we felt comfortable telling people about it
- We wanted to make sure that we’d told all the people close to us in a personal way. I didn’t want to put up a post about it and then go, “Oh shit, we forgot to tell my mom!” (Not that we forgot to tell my mom. Also, not that my mom knows about my blog.)
- I needed a good picture to post, which involved a vigorous approval process. That went a little something like this: “No. And not that one. Oh, I hate that! Please delete this one right now. No, right now so I can know that you’ve done it. No. No. No. Okay, this one. I guess...”
- The longer I held back in writing about it, the more pressure I felt to make the post epic
- I’m doing NaBloPoMo next month, so I need to save up all the material I can get
Sarah is just about twenty-eight weeks along and everything is going great. First trimester was awful for her; just near constant nausea coupled with just about every other pregnancy symptom a girl can get. Second trimester has been almost entirely good times, and I say this because I’m not the one wearing belly belt pants and getting booted in my vital organs. As of Tuesday, we’re officially into third trimester, so I’ll let you know how that turns out.
We’re having a boy, and I’m strangely reluctant to share the name here—even though we’ve told every single person who’s asked us. I will tell you what we call him presently: Humpy. It started as a joke, something to replace Cobra Commander, which had been our placeholder name at the start. But when we were at the Georgia Aquarium back in July and we learned about the humphead wrasse, I turned to Sarah and said, “That’s what we’re calling him from now on: Humphead.” Humphead quickly became Humpy, and while we used it jokingly at first it wasn’t very long before the name stuck and we starting using it in an earnest and affectionate way. “How’s Humpy today?” “Humpy’s on a growth spurt.” “Look, Humpy and Moe are hanging out.” And as you can see, Moe likes to perch on Sarah’s belly and purr, which always results in jabs of acknowledgement from Humpy. I personally have been kicked in the ear, the mouth, and the cheek by Humpy, but I haven’t yet been kicked out of bed (although I’m told this can happen).