One month left until my due date. How long until JC actually arrives? Well, my sister had her baby three weeks early. It seems pretty wild to me that I could, hypothetically, be toting around a baby as soon as next week.
Even if I wasn’t keeping track of the time myself, the way other people treat me these days tells me just how pregnant I am. I’m a tall girl — as big or bigger than a lot of guys, and I’ve always been a little prickly about getting special treatment based on gender. It’s one thing to have a person to hold open a door for another person, but for somebody to hold a door for me merely because I am a girl? Or to lift any and all heavy objects for me because I am a girl? I appreciate the kindness intended by such gestures, but my possession of a vagina does not make me breakable, nor does my relative lack of testosterone make me a total weakling.
Apparently being pregnant makes a person extra breakable, because everybody, male and female, treats me with extra care these days. The other week my hiking companions audibly gasped when I slipped and hit my shin while traversing a steeper section of trail in the Boise foothills. One day recently in the parking lot of Home Depot a woman yelled out, “Wait!” from a couple rows over when she saw me transferring a large bag of potting soil from my cart to my car. When people see me shoveling compost for the garden, they are invariably shocked and impressed. And yet, I am not Crossfit Mom; my displays of physical activity by any normal (e.g. non-prego) standard are hardly impressive.
One of the women in my hiking group suggested I take advantage of the special treatment while it’s being offered to me. I know I won’t, because I like to imagine I’m a tough girl, but when faced with one of these encounters I do appreciate it, if only a little. Even when special treatment is unwanted, it’s nice knowing that people care.
The move into the new place is nearly complete. All the furniture is where it should be, and most of the non-baby-related mess in JC’s room now consists of bags of paperwork, excess computer cords, un-hung pictures, and knick-knacks. J started hanging pictures on the walls yesterday, and the yard is really starting to come together. Here is a picture of the garden progress. I’m really happy with the planter boxes I put together:
Here’s a picture after we got the mulch, topsoil, and compost in. My neighbor’s little girl and her friend came over while we were working and “helped” a little with some hand shovels:
And here’s one last picture of the walkway we put in. J and I hauled the flagstones ourselves from the rim of a canyon in the desert country near here (how’s that for a fragile pregnant lady!):