Preggers

A little human is going to pop out of me in September. It could be a girl. It could be a boy. It could be a future pop star. It could Prince George’s future princess-wife. It could be a redhead, a lefty, a drummer, or a linguist. All I know is that it will be loved.

I’d post a picture of my bump but that would require standing from my seat to actually take a decent photo. And since I’d rather sit comfortably on my tush and eat one more bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats, I’ll skip the pic. However, I can assure you that I look AMAZING (from the forehead up). My hair has never been so shiny. The rest of me…well…looks like I’ve worked all spring growing a person between my vital organs.

I promise that The Becky Pages will not turn into a mommy blog. (I’d rather read a blog about black mold than a blog about young Winston’s first tooth.) I’ll still write about scented markers instead of pacifiers. I won’t bore you with the trials of sleeplessness, but I will beg for your mercy when my writing is clouded by lack of sleep. I’ll become a mom but I’ll still be a wife, a daughter, a sister, a John Mayer fan, a tomato lover, a metal detectorist, a skier, and a writer.

But, I did think that you, reader, should know my news. There will be a few more crumbs in my keyboard as I snack through the baby kicks. There will be a few emotional pregnant cries at the keyboard that you’ll never see. There will be procrastination from finishing columns as I shop for strollers online. And there will be a new perspective.

But otherwise, it’s business as usual.  Just with a heck of a lot more hopefulness.

 

 

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