Last weekend started out wonderfully.  I met Junkyard Jennifer for the first time, and she was just as fabulous in real life as she is on her blog.  And her kids are just as adorable as they appear in her pictures!  (It was so nice to meet you, Jennifer!!)

Then, I had a wonderful dinner out with Mr. Punky and Bub.  It was all going so well;  it felt like a golden day.

Then I ran to the grocery store for a few things.  I walked by the Nutella and decided I needed to have it.  It was on the top shelf, but that didn’t matter.  I maneuvered my ever-growing belly and stood on my tiptoes to reach that delicious, chocolate goo.

I saw two young guys coming toward me and watching me as I strained to reach the Nutella.  One muttered something under his breath, and they laughed.  I suspected it might be about me.  Then as they passed, the other one said, “Aw, come on, man.  Don’t make fun of the baby.”

Gulp.  He had said something about me.  Me and my (yes-I-know-it’s-already-huge) belly.

My first reaction was to swear at them under my breath.  “Asshole.”

But then I felt the tears coming.  I willed them away.  I bit my lower lip.  I finished my shopping.

I got into my car, and I cried.

Then I went home and told Bub, “I hope you never grow up to be one of those boys who treats people like that.”

“And I’m going to try my darnedest to make sure you don’t.”

Last time I was pregnant, I was an active member of a discussion board for women who were expecting the same month that I was.  I enjoyed it then.  I had so many questions.  I wanted to know if other people were going through the same things that I was.

This time, though (Oh, didn’t I tell you I’m pregnant?  I’m pregnant.), I’m just not interested in being part of a discussion board anymore. 

On the discussion board, everything felt so rushed.  When women found out they were pregnant, they were getting ultrasounds right away (I had to wait ’til I was 20 weeks).  Six weeks into their pregnancies, they were showing off their baby bumps.  When we had our babies, they were feeding solids within a few months. 

I’m just not into it this time.

I don’t want to hear all those other voices.  I just want to hear my own.  And my little baby’s.

I know, this time, that everybody experiences pregnancy a little differently.  And I also know that there really isn’t much to do, beyond eating a healthy diet, getting a little exercise, and taking a prenatal vitamin.

This time I am choosing to slow down.  I don’t know if I’ll get to do this again.  I have to enjoy it.  I don’t want to feel rushed.  I want to let my body do what it needs to do (which, let’s face it, is what it’s going to do whether I like it or not).

I want to sit.  And breathe.  And contemplate.  Wait, and ponder, and hope.

My, what big feet you have.

A cousin of his size to laugh with…

…and scream with…

…and copy…

…is a wonderful thing.