Mothers’ Days

Just want to get it on the record: Mr. Book thinks the bean is a girl. I don’t have a feeling about it yet—last time it was around twelve weeks that I was pretty sure that I was carrying a boy. We’d be happy with a healthy whichever, but I really want to know which we’re getting. Of course, being as the bean is the size of a raspberry, it’s going to be awhile.

We now have a visit on the books for four weeks from tomorrow, and I badly want to call it off, tell them that we’re not ready to meet until, let me think, perhaps August? There are a couple of problems: they are coming on Birthmother’s Day, which is kind of a weird day for me, since it seems like a mix of “You are not a real mom and should not celebrate on the Sunday” and “Your role is important and deserves a holiday!” I’m (God willing still) going to be pregnant that weekend, and I want to be able to get a card from my husband on real Mother’s Day like a normal pregnant lady—not entertain the adoptive parents on the Quasimother’s Day before. Yes, I know that I can do both, but (hear this in my best childlike whine) I don’t wanna! The other reason that I don’t want the visit is that I’m going to be trying to hide the pregnancy. Oh, I know I have to tell them at some point before the kid arrives, but not during the first trimester. Maybe not during the second. I’ve heard some people talk about how their kids’ birthparents told crazy lies to hide/disguise subsequent pregnancies, or dropped off the map only to reappear with a baby, or refused to tell their raised kids about the child/ren placed for adoption. I understand that these strategies are inappropriate. But I’ll be darned if there isn’t a part of me that wants to not have any more visits this year, just so that I can hide.