Yes, this Sunday will find Jeff and I in birthing class, which will no doubt make this whole "we're having a baby soon" routine very, very real. I am very excited about the classes, because I don't know what to expect. I have a secret wish to meet some really cool, like-minded couples who will become our lifelong friends, as well as to learn all the information I need for labor and for Peppermint's first year of life. Perhaps my expectations are a little bit too high. But in any case, we'll we cross over another rite of passage this weekend and we'll be one psychological step closer to being Peppermint's Parents.
And for anyone wondering about this baby's name, all I can say is that your guess is as good as mine. Jeff and I talk about it a great deal, but picking and sticking to a name has eluded us thus far. And while there are at least a solid 12 names on my list, I don't have that gut feeling that I have picked a name that fits the Peppermint. That is, I haven't found a name that conveys as much love and joy I have for the baby. It may be difficult to find a name that says all I want it to say: This Child is Beloved; this Child is my heart; this Child is a miracle. How can you roll all of that into a single word like "Lisa" or "Emily" or "Ava."
And, one last word on denial. I will overshare and say that I have been unwilling to buy maternity underwear. In part, I am in denial that my hips, and therefore everything below, has had to expand in order to prepare for Pepps' passage out of the womb. In part, I have always struggled to pay good money for stuff no one sees. So, I have a daily ritual of squeezing myself into my pre-pregnancy undergarments. Thanks to this candid shot of me in NYC, I can no longer deny that there are consquences associated with wearing underwear that is too damn small. Thanks to Jeff for this brilliant display of photojournalism.
Top of this weekend's to-do list: Get Christie maternity underwear. The people will thank me.
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