One of the reasons for anonymity on this site is that we are keeping this pregnancy a secret to all but a few until the end of the first trimester. I am writing now, though, because I want to make sure I chronicle these days as much as possible. Meanwhile, those who do know, including my wife and I, are making hard to keep it a secret because we keep buying baby stuff.
The day we went stroller shopping, we also bought some baby clothes. A lot of baby clothes. For a baby we don’t even know the gender of yet, because the baby doesn’t even know yet. There were some pink and some blue items, but mostly whites, yellows and greens. While we were out stroller shopping, my wife’s mother hit the stores, too, and also bought some nice clothes.
A few days later, a swing from my wife’s sister arrived by FedEx, but was delivered to the wrong house. One of the boys who muscled it down the street said to my wife, “You don’t look pregnant!” That’s a high compliment these days when she certainly feels like she looks pregnant.
I had to hump both the stroller, which weighs about as much as a Kia Sephia, into the house under the cover of darkness so as to not tip off the neighbors. I also have to hide any baby books and other items as if they’re contraband, lest someone who’s not in on it yet comes over. Of course, both the stroller and the swing are in our dining room. How do we explain those? I mean, it was one thing to use my wife’s friend and her nonexistent husband’s pregnancy as an excuse why we were in the baby book section at the local bookstore, but those can’t be gifts for them, too, can they? We’ll see.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for all these items, and the additional ones coming. I’m just poking fun, as I do in my own way. But, as I said to my wife one day after she went shopping with her mother, “I can see this is going to be the nine-month stock-up to the apocalypse.” The joke was on her, but I bet the joke will soon be on me.
Peaks and Lavallees 