bun in the oven

I'm at this kind of plateau stage in the pregnancy at this point where I don't always really feel pregnant. I'm not in the third trimester where munchies and rollercoaster emotions can apparently rule your world. I haven't started to show to the average person on the street. Nothing's kicking at my ribs yet or punching me in the bladder. Besides a good side of watermelon, I don't have a heck of a lot of crazy cravings right now. (Bless the state of California where I can still eat good, relatively local watermelon into October. Organic, no less.) People ask me if the baby has worked into my dreams yet. No, not really. It's the cats. The cats in need of my care. The cats in danger. The cats talking to me in baby talk. Even in my subconscious, I can't process the data. Human baby?!

Sometimes I start to wonder if this isn't all just something I made up. I ask my husband on a pretty regular basis, "Ya think it's still in there?" "Yes," he always says without any signs of impatience, "I think so." In an attempt to work up some kind of connection, I've started to report my daily goings on to him using "we." Like, "Today, we finished those interview questions." Or: "Today, we planted the daffodils." "Today, we went to the farmer's market." It doesn't really make me feel pregnant, though, just a little kooky.

Anyway, I know I've written before about first reactions by friends. But in terms of the outside word, I'm still in a position where I have to tell people I'm pregnant, should I want them to know. And so the reactions keep coming. Some are doozies. Take for instance: "It's the most natural thing in the world. No big deal!" Do I have to tell you this was a man speaking? I'll refrain from comment. There isn't enough space on the server.

Another of my friends upon hearing the news actually said "Ohmigod, you have a little bun in the oven!" He used the phrase "bun in the oven." He actually said the words "bun - in - the - oven." This person is an otherwise creative, progressive, open-minded writer. Pardon, but there is no bun. There is no oven. I think my astounded horror stems not from the unflattering and shallow metaphor to describe a life-altering situation, but from the very use of such a ridiculous cliché! He's a writer for godssake! (Seinfeld fans -- "And this offends you as a Jewish person?" "No, it offends me as a comedian!")

On simultaneously learning of my pregnancy and my blog, another friend hopped right on the internet and checked it out... At least, that's what she told me… In an email that could have dripped pastel colors and fuzzy teddy bears she wrote me, "What a beautiful gift you are creating for your child!" Beep! Beep! Beep! Down the bad egg shoot! You just gave yourself away! What blog did you read anyway?!?

When I told a fellow spoken word performer/writer recently, his eyes got big. All he could say was, "Think of the poems! Think of the poems!" Was that jealousy in his voice?

Then there was the 17-year-old regular from the poetry slam who was so worried about me at one recent show when I wasn't feeling well. "I'm fine," I told him. "I'm just pregnant." This news did not curb his concern. "Oh!" he said. And from his teenaged brain: "Do you have any idea whose?" I probably should have been deeply insulted. But instead, I doubled up and laughed harder than when I saw a man video taping the pizza on his plate in a restaurant, narrating. Later in the evening, I brought my teenage friend over to meet my husband. During their introductions I leaned over and whispered "Probably his."

"Congratulations!" they all say immediately or eventually. (I can't stop myself from adding in my head, "Congratulations, your birth control failed!") I can only imagine what stories I'll have to tell once a big belly actually starts to show. In Navel Gazing, Jennifer Matesa talks about the stares and comments that she got in her third trimester from people on the street, mostly from men. About how, in many ways, pregnancy is the clearest and most prominent sign of sexuality. She said she started thinking about wearing a tee-shirt that would read "It was good for me."