This morning I woke up thinking about my nieces. One of them is complex, observant, smart, funny, inventive, somewhat anxious, sensitive, fascinated, a scientist, and a bit devious. She likes to watch movies, spoil her dog, and dismantle insects. The other is affectionate, beaming, intense, opinionated, particular, smart, outgoing, impatient, lively, and dramatic—an entertainer. She likes to clothes-shop and converse, often on her “cell phone.” I wonder what little personality will show itself with our kid. This morning I threw up my breakfast. (Still coping with a good bit of puke, although the all-day nausea has abated.) Is this an indicator, like some people think? Troubled pregnancy = good-natured baby? = smart kid? = … ?

My nieces are both impulsive and are skilled negotiators. As a team, they play beautifully and are dangerous. They invent detailed imaginary worlds and perpetrate extensive damage to property. As adversaries, they fight dirty. It’s all familiar. That’s life with a sister. “A sister is both your mirror and your opposite,” as Elizabeth Fishel says. (But isn’t your mirror somehow opposite, too? OK, don’t think too long about that quote.)

We’ve gotten occasional comments about our plans to have only one kid. Won’t she be lonely? (Not in this town.) Won’t she be spoiled? (I think we can handle that.) (And yes, maybe. You’ve never met spoiled siblings?) Everyone’s first question when they learn we are pregnant is, “Is this your first?” I know what they mean: “Have you ever done this before? Is this all new to you?” But it’s weird to say yes. First and last, yes. Only.

Steve and I had both separately, before we met, imagined a future life with one kid. Nice that we had that in common. It suits us for a lot of reasons. I loved having a sister a lot of the time. I couldn’t do without her now that we’re grown and friends. But having a sister is very different from having two kids, no? This we get to choose. (That is, assuming we can find more reliable birth control than, um, that kind we were relying on 20 weeks ago [Remember, woman-friends, the Pill is made INEFFECTIVE by antibiotics].)

Anyway, there’s half a baby in there now. She moves around some. I find this DISGUSTING, but it’s nothing personal against HER. Steve thinks it’s cool, so that’s good. This is typical of our response to the pregnancy. Everything about it disgusts and offends me. I feel imposed upon by doctors’ appointments and tests. I feel angry that we haven’t evolved medically/scientifically as a race to eliminate the need for me to physically carry a developing fetus around with me for nine months while my body changes in all kinds of unwelcome ways. And don’t even get me started on the lack of research into treatments for morning sickness, depression, and other maladies during pregnancy. The common doctor-answer to everything is: “It’s just temporary.” Yeah? Well, here’s a black eye. JUST TEMPORARY. Anyway, it’s Steve who watches the Ultrasound videos, Steve who listens to the heartbeat, and Steve who reads the books and literature (mostly because it’s all full of pictures of pregnant women, YACK). His mother taught Lamaze classes when he was a little boy, and he tagged along and drew pictures (of clocks) in the back of the room. He had seen “The Miracle of Life” fifty times by the time he was eight. I think this exposure made him immune to what is clearly, to any sane person, a super-gross and primitive physical process. (Actually, I understand there are women who find it not only NOT-gross, but somehow beautiful and natural. And I think these women would benefit from the additional research into pre-partum sanity medications for which I advocate.)

Anyway, I’ve been asked for an update on this situation, and there it is. Halfway there, wholly looking forward to momhood.