Bring On the Panel Pants, Please

There comes a time in every pregnancy (I assume), when a woman must lay down her normally waisted clothes and take up her panel pants to accommodate her womb's growth. (Unless you are Giselle Bunchen, who claims she never had to wear (or resort to) maternity clothes. Bitch.)

Folks, I think we are fast approaching that day here with Cherry Blossom. I have scoured the closet for loosest-fitting, most stretchy Banana Republic pants and my almost-elastic black skirt, but it's not going to work tomorrow if I want to ingest any liquids or food. Or air.

And, tomorrow is 15 weeks for us. The nausea is way, way down, though I swear on the corporate life of Staples that if I have to endure the smell one more freaking Indian Lean Cuisine curry bowl wafting from the lunchroom, I am going to have to give the offender a $1,000.00 gift certificate to the restaurant of her choice and tell her to have lunch there on me every day for the next 25 weeks. Not kidding.

I keep thinking I am going to feel Cherry Blossom wiggling around, and sometimes, I actually think I do, but then long stretches go by without any wiggles and I feel sad. I think we all know I also feel afraid, since KICK COUNTS were a definite source of trauma and terror for me last time around. But the wiggles will probably come soon and I am determined to make them a source of joy and connection with Cherry Blossom. (You heard it here first.)

In other news, now that I have a bona fide legal job and a bona fide baby bump, I have to get maternity suits. Never seen one? Well, that's sort of a problem I am finding, because most maternity shops have all sorts garish empire waist tops and nylon skirts and plenty of denim, but I need a real, live suit to wear in front of a real, live judge or two where I don't have to worry that she'll try to find me in contempt of court for dressing like a buffoon. I know, I know, it's a high-class problem, but it's going to be a low-class problem next week when I have a settlement conference in Indiana and can't zip my pants up. I think it may be time for some on-line perusing. (Jeff, it's ok, it's cheaper than custom-made maternity suits. Love you!)

See, Cherry, all the fun you are going to come into. A well-dressed mom, a sister who is allergic to hummus (she'll be the one in the haz-mat suit at the dinner table-- don't laugh at her, she can beat you up), and a dad who shows no signs of the hummus allergy. It's great fun. We can't wait to add you to the mix. Take your time, though, I gotta get my money's worth on these suits.