I don’t like the idea of naming a child. I can’t even name my own cat, instead, I let my Facebook friends do it. But I don’t think that’s really an option for my actual, human baby, even though right now we are referring to it as “The Tadpole”. Please don’t call child protective services. I know I have a whole pregnancy to make this decision, but I’m not sure I can handle the pressure. Especially without alcohol.

Luckily, if we have a boy the decision is already made for me. My husband is a second, like King George II. His parents didn’t want to him to be called Junior his whole life, so they went with roman numerals instead. Also lucky is the fact that he has a perfectly nice name, so it’s not like I’m being forced to carry on a family tradition of torturing babies with names like Tarquin Farnsworth IV. I have also taken a poll of the people I know who have numbers (consisting entirely of my boss who’s a third) and they conclude growing up with the same name as your dad is one of the less cruel things you can do to a kid. Much less cruel than naming him Chevy or Mustang or Harley Davidson.

My real dilemma is naming a girl. I have a couple names I like, a few that are off limits, and of course the Baby Name Test. I didn’t invent the baby name test but I’m certainly going to run all possible girl names by it. You just take your baby’s potential name and insert it into the following two sentences:

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I now introduce to you the President of the United States, ________________.” or

“Now appearing on the main stage of the Lusty Beaver, _________________.”

Mostly I’m just afraid of falling into that crazy world parents live in where the desire to name your child something that illustrates its amazing spectacular specialness makes you think Bryannyan is an awesome name. Much like all the people here: http://www.notwithoutmyhandbag.com/babynames/index.html (Thanks Sara!) I also don’t want to name it Jennifer or Emily or Elizabeth or Michelle, no offense to anyone, because I have a really common last name, and wouldn’t want the baby to be Jennifer-D-the-one-with-red-hair her whole life. Although these days even the most uncommon names aren’t. I know two babies named Nevaeh – heaven backwards – and both sets of parents think they “made up” the name. Does anyone have a super awesome secret perfect baby name they want to give me?

In the past three days I have eaten so much bacon, I would not be surprised if I give birth to a pig.

Babe for a girl, Wilbur for a boy.

I rode my bike to work today. We’ve had horrible storms for two days but this morning was bright and sunny with low humidity and a breeze. Perfect bike riding weather. But now it is over 80 and breathingfeels like inhaling dirty water. Plus I’m frickin hungry and I don’t feel like dodging the idiot drivers who can’t understand that I’m allowed to use their roads.

I really thought once you were in a “delicate condition” you were allowed to pass on physical activity. Isn’t lying on the couch eating ice cream expected of pregnant women? The next 7 1/2 months will be the last time in my entire life I don’t have to worry about anyone but myself. Who would take that away from me?

The taker in question is a magazine, Fit Pregancy. I got a copy from my OB-GYN and made the mistake of reading it. At first I was just fascinated by the ads. No shoes, bags, shampoo, designers or diamonds here. Just cribs, diapers and Desitin. The idea that once a woman was pregnant she would still need anything besides baby gear is foreign to this magazine.

Something that is exactly the same as regular women’s magazines are the models. What kind of freaks are these people? They look like they just shoved a pillow under their clothes and claimed to be knocked up. Even the ones in bikinis or crop tops have perfect glowing bellies, without scars, moles or stretch marks. They’re all happily frolicking in designer clothes and high heels, with their tiny toothpick arms holding $2000 bags or organic flax and wheatgerm smoothies. COME ON. I am growing a person inside me. It’s pretty much the most special, beautiful, magical, feminine thing someone can do. And you want to make me feel bad about how I look while I do it?

They don’t settle for just implying I’m somehow not attractive enough to be pregnant. They also want me to know that if I do give up riding my bike or start skipping the gym in favor of House reruns, I’m going to kill my baby. Ok, probably not kill exactly, but harm definitely. My baby could be preterm and have a low birth weight! I could get gestational diabetes! I could cause my baby to grow extra fat cells, causing it to be obese later in life! They managed to scare me enough to continue the bike riding.  I’m generally a pretty active person (just one who loves food) so I don’t think it’s going to be a real strain for me. I just dislike being bullied into it.

Fit Pregnancy also wants me to know that exercising now will help me get my body back after baby! Because as soon as you give birth you’re just fat.

I woke up this morning with huge boobs and an earache. The boobs are kind of nice, although I wasn’t really lacking in the cleavage department before. I’m going to need some new bras to keep my chests from escaping. The earache is the same pain I had two weeks ago. Last time the doctor said it was an ear infection and gave me antibiotics. I’ve never heard of chronic ear pain as a symptom of pregnancy, but I can’t see any other reason. No ear infections for 26 years and then two in three weeks? Although I am completely willing to trade a few earaches for the morning sickness I have so far avoided. Got that baby? You can have my ear if you don’t make me puke. And thanks for the boobs.

I’ve learned two major things so far about pregnancy. First, everyone is really concerned about your vitamins. Second, if you’re not married prepare to be judged, you whore.

After my first pregnancy test came out positive, I decided – against what I’ve been advised in the past – to buy What to Expect When You’re Expecting. The first chapter was a list of things you cannot do once you’re pregnant. Shockingly, drugs and alcohol are on this list. Wait, you mean meth isn’t good for my baby? My real concerns were the three martinis I had over the 4^th of July weekend and the antibiotics I was prescribed for an ear infection. Luckily, even though What to Expect has been called alarmist, it assured me neither of those had caused my baby to grow a second head and flippers, as long as I took my vitamins. Then there is a little note in the book that explains it uses the words husband and spouse to mean “significant other” and people in non-traditional relationships should just replace them with “partner” in their head. It struck me as incredible lazy. How hard could it be to use the find & replace function before you went to the publisher?

I went in to the doctor yesterday to confirm I really was pregnant before I started telling people. My regular medical care is provided through the military, so I’m seen at the clinic on base. They did a blood test and then sat me down for a talk.

When the nurse started The Talk, I figured it was pretty routine. No, I don’t smoke pot. No, I don’t use any street drugs. No, I don’t smoke. Yes, I do drink but not since I found out I was pregnant. Yes, I understand the importance of not doing these things. Yes, I know proper nutrition is vital. Then she asked, “Are you married?” Wait, what? Why? Is this medically relevant? It just so happens that I am married, but it’s not exactly a requirement to have a healthy baby. Are you going to refuse me care because of my marital status? The nurse told me they didn’t do OB-GYNcare on base and they would write me a referral to an outside practice. I picked one close to my house and was sent on my way with a prescription for a year’s worth of prenatal vitamins. I really hope I’m not pregnant for a year.

The OB-GYN’s office called me in to start some paperwork and lab testing. The paperwork was just like The Talk. Do you use intravenous drugs check yes or no. Do you taken herbal supplements check yes or no. Are you married check yes or no. Wait, what? Again? I thought it might have been an insurance thing last time, but you just made a copy of my ID and insurance card. Why does it matter if I’m married?

The nurse then offered me a goody bag of magazines and coupons for vitamins. I assured her that not only did I already have a prescription for the vitamins, I’ve actually been taking them since last July. “Don’t forget to take one every day,” she reminded me. Oh, I have to swallow them? I thought I was just supposed to keep the bottle under my pillow. I did not say that, but was still sent across the street to another office for more lab tests. I don’t think I’ve had this much medical care since the day I was born.

At the lab they wanted bodily fluids. But wait! Before I could pee on anything they needed some information. What’s your address? Social Security Number? Insurance Company? Are you married? Good Lord, really?

Perhaps this question gets asked over and over again because single mothers need more support and these kindly medical people just want to help. Maybe there are statistics to prove married women have higher risk pregnancies (or vice versa). Maybe it really is about insurance. In 2005, 33.9 percent of births were to single mothers, so is it really still considered unusual? I just know that it surprised me every time, and I was secretly releived I could answer “yes” in case the follow up question was “Then how did you get pregnant, you slut?”