Week 22
So, I get in the elevator on my way home from work on Monday, and about 3 floors down, it stopped to pick up 3 ladies also heading home. They must work together as they're giggling and chatting as they get in. The doors close and one of them turns around and with a big excited face exclaims, "Oh, my gosh! How many days until you're due?"
"Days," I think. Oh, this is going to be funny!! I quickly do the math and, oh, so matter-of-factly answer, "One hundred nineteen...Seventeen more weeks to go." I'm pleased at her perplexed look and the sudden quiet in the elevator. But, feeling a little evil, and not wanting to make it too awkward, I also add, "They are twins, though, so they don't leave me much room." Relief sets in and they are all the sudden busy with all sorts of questions. The elevator sounds like a hen house until we finally reach the bottom floor where we all get out.
It's raining outside, and I walk to the BART station amid a sea of opened umbrellas. The BART station is especially full today and there is hardly any room left on the platform on which to wait. My train approaches next, and I'm not even sure I'm going to make it on as there are so many in the already crowded train, and I'm sure I'm not going to get a seat. I feel fortunate that I'm one of the last to make it in the car and can find at least something study to hold on to. I figure things might open up by Oakland City Center and get ready to ride the 10 minutes or so standing up. A young lady sitting near me immediately offers me her seat. However, she has a giant box of flowers 3 feet tall (it's Valentine's Day) to manage, so I decline knowing what a mess I'd be putting her in. Two other people - men unencumbered by flowers - instantly pop up and I realize that I must look pretty bad off. (I take the seat anyhow!)
Mom picks me up. We are going to a birthday gathering over dinner and dessert. A bunch of my mom's friends and the local daughters of the 2 birthday girls (I'm one of the daughters and my friend Lisa, who is also expecting, is the other) along with their husbands. Lisa is 13 weeks further along that I am and is on required bed rest as she has signs of pre-term labor. She's hoping to make it at least another week to 36 weeks. She and I practically grew up together and are like best friends. Although I talk to her on the phone a number of times a week, I haven't seen her for at least a month, so I sit down on the couch where she's reclined to catch up. She soon points out that we are the same size, even though she is set to give birth in a number of days and I have 3 months to go. OK, that's 3 times in under 2 hours. I'm suddenly very self-aware and decide that it may be time for another visual for the scrapbook.
