I say part one because I sense there may be many more moments of pregnancy rage to come.
This week, the honour goes to -
“Do you know what it is yet?”.
I’m hoping it’s a baby or I’ll be a bit fucking miffed.
I’ve told everyone, ABSOLUTELY EVERYONE, that I’m finding out (hopefully) this week. Thursday, 12th December. So no, I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl yet.
No, I won’t be disappointed if it’s a boy/if it’s a girl.
I don’t have any inclination one way or the other. Let’s face it, I’ve got a 50% chance of being right. Well, actually, I’ve said it’s a baby, so I’ve got a 99.99999% chance of being right (always got to account for that teeny margin of error, after all). It might be a girl. It might also be a boy. Yes, you can have a guess – I love hearing what people think, and there’s a few people where I’ve actually asked if they have any idea – but trust me, if I knew what it was, it’d be on Facebook, and I’d be shouting it from the rooftops. If I don’t have you on Facebook, or you don’t think I know you well enough to have told you in person, you probably don’t know me well enough to be all that interested.
And no. I DON’T WANT TO HEAR YOUR NAME SUGGESTIONS.
The difficult thing right now is convincing people that underneath the prego rage, I’m a genuinely nice person. Sometimes.