Week 22 Day 5

I'll be starting a new job next Monday, and they have no idea that I'm pregnant. "They don't know?!" says everyone I tell this wonderful gossip to. I'm determined to overcome the nervousness that this brings, and instead walk in and contribute my maternal-pregnant-love joy feeling to the corporate world.

I've already fooled the HR people when I went to sign the forms, I'll have to fool some more of them when I go for the drug test and finger printing. No, it's not a CIA job, but it is America (shrug). And fooling people is no small feat now because I am a big mama, certainly not one of those women who have a tiny perfect 5 month bump.

To prepare for work, I began hunting the city for loose clothing that disguises pregnancy. There seems to be a trend of fitting clothing, through which everyone can see not only the bump, but also the belly button outline. I need those smocks from the 40s, discreet and elegant. Under those smocks, who knows if you are hiding a baby or a eating obsession (maybe both). So far, my hunt led me to Cadeau, a fancy boutique where I spent $400 on a pair of pants and a beaded smock. But I do look so glamorous. Manhattan is a dangerous place for a woman's wallet.

Yesterday at the "Planning a Healthy Pregnancy" seminar at Beth Israel - where I'm birthing I've finally decided after days of agonizing over how sterile and clinical and hospital-y it was - Pat told us that we must talk to our babies. Now, I knew that, having read it in a magazine somewhere. But I'm not sure what to say to Olive Holm besides "Hello, how are you," and "I love you!" I do sing her songs based on her name and a few other words.

Week 20 Day 4

I got another interview, for a real job at a real bank with a real corporate salary. When I try my suit, panic sets in. I'm clearly pregnant, it's unhidable in fitted clothes.

How will I hide my belly? I spend an hour at Pea in the Pod trying on itchy polyester suits for $500.

The interview is with a South African man. I thought it went well, but then I hear back a no. Did he know that I was pregnant? I am mad at first, but then remember the big gaffe I made during the interview: I asked a question that he had spent 20 minutes answering in the beginning of the interview. Oops.

Baby and I may be coding for a while.

Week 19 Day 5

Heartburn has set in. I didn't realize what it was at first, a tingling sensation in the chest like the kind you have after drinking peppermint tea. Ah! Heartburn. As soon as I identified it, I started associating it negatively. Who enjoys heartburn? Tingling can be nice.

The doctor advises me to take medicine - Mylanta, Mylox, whatever. Never! I exclaim. Doesn't he know that I do not take drugs. What's going to happen in the delivery room when I refuse the epidural?!! "Why not milk?" I ask. He implies that I am gaining too much weight, perhaps because I'm drinking too much milk. "Well, you are the first person in history probably to tell a pregnant woman not to drink milk!" I say. I'm thoroughly disenchanted by the encounter.

Later that afternoon, I pop a tums. It really does work better than milk. I forgive the doctor.

Today I weighed officially 30 lbs above my dancing weight. I'm going to be a big momma.

Week 19

Corporate Pregnancy - no one asked nor did I tell though I did catch them staring at my growing belly. I'm big enough now to get offered a seat on the subway. "How much of that is baby?" asks my hubby. "All of it!" I reply. "Also fluids, its mainly fluids since I did increase my blood volume by 40%." I apply random facts from the internet in whatever manner I want. You can see the veins in my boobs and they hurt incredibly in preparing the milk ducts.

I returned to ballet finally and it felt weird to dance with baby in utero. It felt better to eat strawberry shortcake with the colleagues. It was sort of a welcome pastry. We are kind and compassionate towards each other, since we're all document review attorneys coding out of a conference room. It's like the factory work in law practice. I'd prefer not to do it, but they track us by how many pages we code a day. I'm required to view 1000 pages and mark them hot, relevent, very relevant or not relevant. It keeps me mouse clicking, which may be giving me carpel tunnel I fear.

Week 18

Only a week into this job, we are interviewing again, baby and I. It feels weird to be a chunky girl at an interview. Slimmer people have a higher likelihood of success, they say. I have to lie to the woman in front of me about my pregnancy, by not disclosing it, by claiming my intentions to work dedicatedly and long hours and throughout all my child-bearing years.

Self-interest prevails in the end: I've gotta survive and need more money more than ever, with a cherub on the way.

Week 17 Day 5

Baby and I went on the subway this morning to work in midtown. She loved the subway rumble and made little kicks in my belly to let me know. Wow, baby, you're moving in there. Very subtle little movement, but definitely not butterflies. "What do they feel like?" Aaron wanted to know? "Why, like a little baby kicking." Only I could feel it from the inside. My tummy didn't move or anything.

17 weeks 3 days

Baby's soul apparently arrived sometime in the last week - officially on the 120th day according to certain traditions, including my own. Well, I think so anyway, my mother's not quite sure. I asked her to check with her sisters, but she thought she'd better check with a maulvi. What do maulvis know - they're educated in madrasas with the terrorists. My grandmother, rip, would've known. She had this magical way of knowing lots of things, like how to cook mustard greens so they taste delicious, that no one remembers anymore. My mother's certainly forgotten. Her name was Darukshinda. I have her emerald and pearl earrings, which I inherited after she died 13 years ago.

I was nervous about the descent of the soul - "stay calm and happy," I kept telling myself. Meanwhile I had to pack, move and fight frequently with the husband about things like - why can't you wash the dishes properly? There's no dishwasher in our new pad. We also had our anniversary this week, for which we went out to celebrate at "The Grocery," fine heavy food in the Carroll Gardens section of Brooklyn. We were so tired that we almost fell asleep in our plates. We eavesdropped our neighbors conversation more than speaking to each other. We did speak about the New Orleans disaster, the plight of the poor black people of America and the hypocrisy of the white people in power. It seems that the darker you are, the worse off. That's why I married a white guy - to give my offspring a better chance.

We think she is "Olive Sofia Holm" to arrive on February 11, 2006 on a cold sharp day.