The Secret (is out in the) Garden

I have received confirmation that my baby bump is noticeable!

Let me explain.

We (Husband and I) descended upon the planter-box-garden and fawned over the tomatoes, bell peppers, and herbs, showing them our upmost respect and gratitude.

Meanwhile, Neighbor Girl is standing in front of her door, digging through her purse for her keys. (This whole lost keys scenario is a daily re-run. In fact, I have witnessed her, through a small crack in the blinds (not creepy), unload and sort her whole backpack on her front door step. She should probably keep better track of those things.)

As I was admiring Mr. Oregano, Neighbor Girl butts in, “So, how far along are you? I mean…,” as she employed some secret hand gestures over her stomach area. I interpreted said hand language to mean, “Your stomach is really OUT there and I’m guessing it’s the result of a human child.” (After all, I am learned in hand gestures.)

Suddenly, the heavens opened and the angels descended upon my little porch garden, trumpets and all. Neighbor girl was the first to notice that I was pregnant! (Or at least the first with enough guts to come out and say it.) You know the dumb kind of smile that you can’t wipe off your face, even though you try really hard? Yeah, I was sporting one of those. We chatted about the Spaghetti Squash (the thing growing in my stomach, not my garden) and then she dropped another bomb. (This girl is good!)

“You guys go to church, don’t you?”

My first thought was impressed that she knew us so well, but my second thought, was like, “Wait a second, what does that say about us?! This could go both ways, you know.” And then I realized, it really can go both ways...

Do we give off a churchy aura because we are so friendly, clean cut, and madly in love? Or do we look really boring, unfashionable, and dorky? Maybe we are somewhere in the middle? Hopefully our church-ness isn’t obvious because we are crazy stuck-up, self-righteous people.

These are serious thoughts to ponder.

In other news, I am 22 weeks pregnant, which means that my baby weighs about a pound, is 11 inches long, has a 10% chance of surviving if he were born today, and is growing a pancreas. For me, this is when I start worrying about stretch marks. Yay!