Pregnant Women Are Smug?

Well, according to these two they are (via The Morning News, via Salon):


I thought this little song/act of aggression was mildly funny, because I have met many pregnant women (both before and after I got pregnant) who say ridiculous - no, make that ridonculous - things, examples of which are included in the ditty. I've also encountered people (often older women) who assume that, since you're pregnant, your life is perfect, or that all your problems have been solved. On the other hand, it appears to be perfectly socially acceptable to express outright hostility towards anyone who's pregnant - whether by subtly "warning" them that they "just might" gain 60 lbs., or by writing a song about how annoying they are (even if some of them indeed are).

Preggers McKnocked Up

Well, here it is: the Quiet Period is over. I am currently thirteen weeks pregnant and have officially entered my second trimester. Which is also the time at which, given the decline in miscarriage risk, it becomes advisable and allowable to tell one's friends. The effect of this unwritten rule is a tad ironic: it was only while I was doubled over with nausea and having to cancel all plans that I couldn't tell anyone why I was behaving in such a seemingly flaky manner (and likely giving the appearance of someone who can't be bothered to make new friends in a new city). And now that I'm feeling better, and it's "okay" to tell, I haven't really been rushing to tell everyone that we're I'm (I prefer the latter - J is lovely and supportive but shows no real signs of pregnancy) in fact pregnant.

Being massively nauseous and even involuntarily turned vegetarian (also ironic, as I have always taken pride in being an adventurous eater and meeting the criteria of omnivorousness) obviously prevented me from updating my blog. But while I was spending some serious time on the couch thinking about not updating my blog, I realized that a lot of of what I wanted to write about was pregnancy-related, as opposed to "just" being an expat in Brussels. Voilà Bébé Belge ("Brussels Sprout" and "Baby in Brussels" were already taken): a sibling or distant cousin of BfB, with random musings on what's it like to be pregnant and (eventually) have a baby for the first time, in somewhat foreign surroundings.   

Besides, I didn't want to annoy my blissfully childless friends and other uninterested parties with endless chatter they would likely find mind-numbing. To illustrate, I realized that, all of a sudden, I had sort of involuntarily switched parties, or at least entered an area of overlap on a Venn diagram - between the category of people who are horrified by screaming infants on airplanes and those who hold a slightly more merciful view. I even began to wonder when I would be able to fly with an infant. And that is a paradigm shift, if I have ever personally experienced one.