Since announcing my pregnancy 36 weeks ago, there’s one comment people have been making that’s about as annoying as my currently swollen ankles.
No, it’s not “oh my god are you carrying twins in there?”. No, it’s not a whole lot of unsolicited parenting advice. No, it’s not the observation that “your baby might be born on Christmas day like Jesus.” It’s not even the whole “get sleep now because you’ll never sleep again” schtick.
It’s the bagsing, or claiming, of baby names.
After joyously announcing my pregnancy to my closest friends over dinner one night, I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. It had been a long, emotional slog trying to see those two little blue lines on the stick.
After one year of failed attempts and almost four months on fertility drugs, at 34, Chris and I were finally getting the baby we’d been envisioning for a decade!
Among the “I’m so happy for you” comments and overjoyed squeals was one reaction that deflated my mood like a balloon. (Post continues after gallery.)