Happy birthdays to come

"God damn the wounds
That show how deep a word can cut."

-- Before You Were Born, Toad the Wet Sprocket



Yesterday was my birthday. Few people remembered. Joe greeted me as we woke up in the cabin (see the camping blog below), gave me a mushy card and promised to deliver my present on Friday. Dad called. Rebecca and Bob both called AND sang. And my sister-in-law and another friend in Florida left messages. And my brother handed me a card when I got back from lovely DuBois.

OK, everyone important remembered. Everyone who had any knowledge of my birthday anyway. And I know my sister remembered, because my dad told me she called and mentioned it, but she and I apparently are going through a no-talking spell. Last time we spoke on the phone she hung up on me and she won't return my emails, even though I owe her money. That's impressive. Even I am sweet as pie until someone pays up.

But no one celebrated happily that I'm 29 again! I hope to see some sort of dessert topped with candles this weekend.

The baby's birthday is on target too, according to the ultrasound today. Mid-December. The sonagram technician was all syrupy, telling me I better have my holiday shopping done by Thanksgiving. And she asked if we were interested in knowing the gender. But of course.

Joe and I were leaving the appointment when I began text-messaging the news to my sister-in-law. He stopped me, and suggested that we keep that news private. I thought about it for a second. I decided the sentiment was silly, but felt I should at least give the appearance I was giving it some consideration. My quiet pondering drove him crazy.

"Why do you always get like this when I try to talk to you about something?" he barked at me.

We were driving by then, and the argument ensued. It wasn't even about the baby's gender anymore. He was mad that I didn't give his feelings any weight and I was mad that he was telling me what I was allowed to tell people about this nine-pound gut hanging off the front of me.

I told people anyway. My family, my close friends. I know that should be a decision Joe and I both make, but I had no idea it mattered at all to him, and he didn't bring it up until moments after we found out. It didn't seem fair.

It will be a fun counseling session on Monday.

After I got home and calmed down, I saw no reason to keep it quiet. I'm the one struggling with my lopsided body, living with my father with no permanent home in sight, and I need all the support I can possibly get. Joe hasn't even told his family yet that he has another child on the way.

Let alone that it's a son.




Zoe and I both have to warm up to having a boy, since we both professed our desire for a girl. "Let's call him Millie," Zoe says.