I went out to lunch with some co-workers today, and my fortune cookie read, "People in your life will be more cooperative than usual." (Did all you editors who're reading manuscripts of mine hear that? Cooperative. Please take note:)) But seriously, I've discovered my cookie is actually right.
As soon as I learned I was pregnant, everyone around me turned into pampering mother hens. There's the advice-givers, of course, which are nice and helpful, though I could probably do without the birth-giving advice just yet. Not quite ready to think about that part. But the constant concern is... well, it's flattering.
Usually, my husband will lay his head on my leg while we're watching TV together, and I'll rub his back and scratch his hair. But now, he'll let me laze against him, and I'll get my back rubbed for a while before he says, "Okay, my turn." Makes me wonder why I waited through eight years of marriage before deciding to have a baby. Then the queasiness hits and I remember, "Oh, yeah. That's why."
Even my nine-year-old niece has taken up looking after me. It's absolutely adorable. I can't twinge or touch my stomach around her without her saying, "Are you okay? Do you need to sit down? Are you tired? Do you want me to get you a blanket?"
I should probably tell everyone I'm okay because comparatively speaking, I think I'm having a very easy time of it so far, but... what the heck. In nine months, there will only be crying, and diaper changing, and midnight feedings, and "Mom, can I borrow twenty bucks," so I've decided I might as well enjoy the spoiling while it lasts, huh?