this is going to be the longest 12 weeks of my life. it’s barely been four weeks, and I have already screwed up the whole “keeping it underwraps” thing thrice.

of course, it started with the inadvertant google reader posting

and last week I told you about the Obama boom, but what I left out was that I became so flustered during that conversation because I knew something I otherwise shouldn’t have known that I ended up outing us when challanged.

(note: never point out to an expectant father that while often you can tell the sex by 16 weeks, it’s a little shakey until 20.)

a common thread here is that i’ve been exhausted since February. i’ve been working crazy hours, but pregnancy has shrunk the size of a walnut … which means she is getting up every night at 11, 1, 3 and 5. interestingly enough, she goes right back to sleep … but i’m awake for half an hour, staring at the ceiling.

so, disaster was in the cards yesterday at the chiropractor … I was exhausted, and the doctor asked if my back was keeping me up. I said no, my wife has been getting in and out of bed a lot … to which she replied “Congratulations! When are you due?!?”


fifty-five days left until 12 weeks, and it can’t come soon enough.

I’m sure I’ll be singing a different tune after 2 months of the exact same conversation — what’s the preggers equivalent of “so, how’s married life treating you?” — but right now the whole honesty thing is looking pretty good.