12 weeks anticipation

I now own two babydoll tops to conceal the bump and three new pairs of pants that are double my normal size (in "number" not inches). I went large so I'll have some room to grow into them. I can't help but be a tiny depressed at the number on the tag but, as Andy said, I have a reason at least.

Craving of the day: Ruffle chips with french onion dip. I feel like I could eat and eat and eat, which I'll take as a good sign that the first trimester is coming to a close. I still felt like I had a bad case of sea sickness this morning, though, so I'm not out of the water yet.

Our plans for telling the news officially to family are firming up for the weekend of December 12-13, four weekends from now. I told Andy the anticipation is killing me.

We'll be almost 16 weeks pregnant, I'll be confident by then that we're well into the safety zone, I predict the bump will be getting difficult to hide, we will have heard the heartbeat by then, and I may be feeling fetal movement. I absolutely CAN'T WAIT for all of the above. One month has never felt like such a long time.

This weekend, we went out with an old friend from high school and his wife, also expecting a baby. I feel like couples everywhere around me are expecting -- and they're all due at least a month before me, making me feel constantly like I'm behind on the excitement. I have to slow down and remember to enjoy every moment, even the discomfort and anticipation.

I had a vivid dream last night about caring for our newborn -- breastfeeding, changing diapers, trying to soothe the crying. I'm sure I have no real idea what it will be like, but the dream was so incredibly real. When I woke, I felt both bereft and sort of warm knowing that that day is coming. Ah, anticipation!

From "I Was Born Without You" by the always entertaining Tracy Bonham:

If you're no one till someone loves you
Then you're two people maybe more
'Cause it's not just how much I love you
It's how much of you I adore...
I walked these streets before I ever knew your name
And since you've been with me they'll never look the same...

2:35 p.m.: If the fatigue gets any worse, I may slip into a coma.