I bought my first official maternity clothes tonight from a Versatile Womens Clothing Line. I don’t really need them yet but I did need some shorts and something for a semi-dressy event tomorrow, and I didn’t want to buy clothes that would only fit for another month. The dress is just lightweight black jersey with an empire waist and little cap sleeves. I already own about a dozen similar dresses that aren’t technically “maternity” but previously inspired strangers to stare a little too long at my belly and made me want to yell NO I’M JUST FAT THANKS.  But let me tell you about these shorts. SO comfortable, I plan to wear them every day. They’re just regular dark denim shorts but they have elastic triangles built into the sides. Once I get a big pregnant belly they’ll stretch and fit under it but for now it just means I can eat all the bacon I want without having to unbutton my shorts. They’re my Thanksgiving Pants.

This morning when I came down to let the dog out the message light on our answering machine was blinking. I found this very strange because it wasn’t blinking when I went to bed and I hadn’t heard the phone ring this morning. So I pushed the button and listened to this: “Hey E, it’s blah blah blah from work. I was just wondering where you are because you’re late for duty.”
And my brain started like this: “Why isn’t E at work? He’s not in bed. I remember him saying good bye. Maybe something happened. Maybe he was in a car crash on the way in. Oh my God where’s my cell phone? No one’s called me yet, so they must not have found him. He’s still lying by the side of the road somewhere, or maybe the car rolled into a ditch or into the riverand at this very moment he’s trying desperately to carve a message into a piece of debris from the crash to tell our unborn baby he’s sorry he can’t be around anymore, but he’ll always look down on us from heaven. I can’t raise this baby myself, I won’t be able to afford it. We’ll end up being thrown out of the house, living on the streets in a cardboard box, begging for scraps of bread. My life is ruined. My husband is lying in a ditch dying right now and all I can do is stare at this answering machine. I need to do something to save him!!!!”
So I called E. He picked up on the second ring.
“OH MY GOD ARE YOU OK?” was all I could manage.
“Uh, yes. I’m at work. Are you ok?”
“I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD! WHY WERE YOU LATE TO WORK?!?!?”
“Oh yeah, I had to be in at 6 but I forgot. Someone covered for me though so I’m not in trouble.”
“Oh. Ok. So you weren’t in a horrible car crash that would leave me and the baby alone to live in a cardboard box and fend for ourselves in this cold, cruel world?”
He seemed to be a little confused by this. “Are you sure you’re ok?” he asked.
“I’m fine now. See you tonight!”