Pickle

About a month ago my dad asked the girls what their new brother or sister should be named, and Ruby answered, "Pickle". Eloise chimed in, "No, Lily." And my dad followed with "Lily Pickle Webster - what a good name!"

So let me fill you in on Mr./Ms. Pickle - what a busy little creature it is. At this point in my pregnancy I think Pickle should be weighing in at close to 1 pound and a bit over 10 inches long, meaning any movement it makes is very noticeable and distracting. Yesterday was the first day Pickle decided to kick near the cervix (those of you who have felt this know exactly what I'm talking about) and make me wince. It's not that it hurts, but more that it's really disturbing. Like your baby could kick it's way out if it wanted to... and you have to clench your buttcheeks together. I know this falls under the category of Too Much Information, but I feel I owe it to Pickle to remember what he/she was like in utero - because you forget. Nature has that figured out perfectly... you forget all the crummy sensations associated with carrying a child so your body gets excited to go through it again. I remember vague things about the extremes of my pregancy with Ru and El, but their movements were such a jumble and I couldn't tell what was going on. With this one, I know where to prod and feel the little butt sticking up. Myles enjoys pressing my stomach excessively and making Pickle scramble around. Isn't that terrible?

Normally I lose connection with Pickle during the day. Yesterday while the girls were at school I ventured to the mall to try on some hideous springtime maternity wear. Some Latino dudes mumbled, "What's up Hot Mama?" behind me on the escalator. Amazing. HOT MAMA. I nearly died of embarassment - I finally understand that I look pregnant to the general public. (Like the snugness of my underwear didn't alert me to this already.) A similar thing happened when I went to the market and was standing in the checkout line and I realized I had forgotten my wallet in the car. The checkout woman said, "go ahead, take your time", and I RAN back to the car to fetch it. Upon my return she said, "Wow. That was fast for a pregnant lady." (PREGNANT LADY! Oh yeah, I'm with child. Remember?)

Now I want you readers to envision me doing the high-speed pregnant shuffle across the icy parking lot in completely impractical shoes.