I lie.

I knew from the outset that I would get people asking me if this is my first child.  I had a plan.  I decided if I thought I'd see the person on a regular basis, and they asked directly, I would tell the truth.  And if they were just a random stranger I'd never see again, I'd save myself the grief and just lie.

But now that I'm big enough that anyone can plainly see I'm pregnant, I'm finding that it's always the random strangers who ask.  They're the ones who don't know any better and are just looking to make innocuous small talk.  Sometimes it feels like it happens every day.

So I lie, I lie, I lie.

I don't like it, and I wish people wouldn't ask, but I don't know how else to manage it.  I don't have the strength now to be pregnant and educate the general populace about babyloss, but every time I slap on a smile and tell the pretty lie, I can't help but feel badly that I've just passed the dilemma on to some other unsuspecting bereaved mom.

29 weeks.

My belly has been getting big for a while now, but in the last week or so the Nut herself has started to feel big.  Really big -- all elbows and knees and limbs pressing outward just a little too hard for comfort.  I can feel her all curled up in there, pressing against the muscle walls of her little bubble; shifting positions, extending a leg, and occasionally giving a little jump.  It feels real and unreal.

The last nine weeks have gone by exceedingly slowly, but here I am -- I'm 29 weeks today, and into the third trimester.  Although I know there are no guarantees, that means that if things go according to plan, I'm no more than 10 weeks away from delivering her.  It seems like no time at all and an endless stretch of days.

I've been stuck in emotional standby for too long.  It's a survival mechanism to get through the weeks and weeks of this pregnancy, but it's put me in a bit of a daze.  I'm having trouble figuring out how to prepare, both logistically (is it too early to start making plans for family to come to SF, to buy the newborn-sized clothes I didn't buy for Mila, to find a pediatrician?) and emotionally.  I can't fathom what it might be like to go to the hospital and suddenly have a real live baby to take home; I'm just trudging through these days with blinders on and a vague sense that when that day finally (and hopefully, hopefully) comes, I won't know what hit me.