I ordered a birthday present for papa today.

He’s been wearing wolf shirts from The Mountain for a few years now, and it’s almost become a ritual for us to get him one for his birthday or Christmas or whatever. I think he wears them, in part, because they annoy mama. But now, everyone in the family has embraced the shirts, and we think of him immediately when we see one.

His birthday is right around the time that we’ll feel safe telling a wider net of friends and family about the baby. So Graham and I figured that if we got this onesie:

and gave it to papa for his birthday with another shirt for himself, he’ll be able to figure out what’s going on.

My drop of blood on Tuesday seemed to be a one off.

Today, I saw a drop of blood.

Freaked the shit out of me.

I always heard people joking about how there’s no such thing as kinda pregnant. I dunno.

For two weeks of each of the last nine months, I’ve wondered if I were pregnant or not. There’s no way to tell, though women who are aware of such things keep on looking for “symptoms”. I know that I am not immune to such hunts.