Now that we’re firmly in the second trimester, I’ve been getting my stuff in order, which mostly means doing all the things I’ve wanted to for months but was too scared.

  Number one on the agenda was getting maternity clothes.  This would have been a nothing-special experience, except that I had to walk four avenues to the maternity superstore in my winter coat.  In the process, I learned that my sweat glands are not only multiplying, but are also seemingly immune to anti-perspirant.  It started out innocently enough: I picked out a couple of pants and some shorts off the sale rack (heading to Aruba soon and I am cheap) and took them to my dressing room.  WHICH SMELLED LIKE A HOBO.  Now, I live in Manhattan, so you ladies should really take my word on what hobos smell like.  Some of my favorite neighbors are hobos.  Anyway, I cringe remembering how long I investigated the scent.  My limbic system totally decided there was an errant hobo in the dressing room, and BY GOD I WAS GOING TO FIND HIM.  I’m not kidding when I tell you it took me 3 full minutes to determine that the smell was moi.  Awesome.  And very lucky for all pregnant shoppers in NYC I wasn’t trying on any tops.

  Number two, the hospital tour.  I understand that some people use the hospital tour to decide where to give birth, which makes sense.  However, my midwife only has privileges at one hospital, so for the husband and I, it was more like, let’s go see where Poppy is going to be born.  The tour itself was long and informative.  We got to see the birthing center, where I hope to deliver.  They have mega tubs which seem comfy, and regular, king-size beds, and your husband can stay overnight, but you have to either bring your own food or rely on delivery.  I like pizza; I think I can deal.

  The only downside is that the tour was flanked by two Q&A sessions in which some people asked good, thoughtful questions, but the majority asked dumb questions.  Actual questions included: ”What does it mean for a doctor to have privileges at a hospital?”  “I know you said 700 babies are born here a year.  How many are born in a month?” Um, seriously?! 

   BTW, I persist in forgetting that getting pregnant isn’t a nightmare for everyone.  Case in point: we’re sitting in this Q&A session, listening to people ask inane question after inane question, and I turn to my husband and hiss, “Omigod, how did any of these people figure out how to get pregnant?”  And he says, kind of amused, “Um, babe, for most people it doesn’t require as much, er, research and organization as it did for us.”  He’s a smart cookie, that husband.

   We are off to Aruba for vacation next week.  Can’t wait!!