Throughout my first trimester, I found myself often thinking “Why doesn’t maternity leave start now?”. Many a morning I cursed having to get out of bed as I was fully aware that the moment I touched my toes to the floor, the sunrise barf fest would ensue. I would phone my mom on my very short commute to the office reduced to a state of maternity melancholy due to the fact that I could not just will the morning/noon/night sickness to subside and leave me with my general happy-go-lucky disposition. I felt sluggish, nauseated, and believed that, perhaps, rather than a baby, a monster truly had inhabited my body. If there were ever a time that a little sabbitical would have come in handy, I had landed right in it. But, as is with all of life’s little lessons, that too has passed and I am back (aside from random fits of being snarky) to my blithe state of being.
One of the key components to getting this baby bus back on the right path has been my fellow charity chums. If not for my fundraising friend’s support during my first trimester (and also now), I may have just quit coming to work (okay, I suppose that’s a bit dramatic but I would have despised the daily grind). In my time at the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation, I’ve had the pleasure of working with my boss, Shannon and a collection of administrative assistants including Jill, Brittni, Consuelo (a temp), Katy and Melissa. I’ve had the great fortune of working with people I enjoy and more importantly, cohorts who put up with my kookiness.
Some might think that working in an office of three girls could lend to some colossal catfights but we’ve been able to avoid any blowouts to date. Each morning we partake in a staff powwow at which point we discuss work, the latest episode of the Hills, and anything else that has moved us since 5:00 pm the day before. Since I have been with baby, the girls have kindly humored me as I’ve dished my trepidations of toting a tot including questioning my newly forming physique, birthing an unhealthy babe, and delivering a disfigured little dumplin’. Shannon, a mother herself, has attempted to quell my fears and Melissa has offered many a smile as I talk about the ins and outs of pghood. They shared their opposition to saving the sex as a surprise and have extended a bit of cajolery in an attempt to unlock the name vault but for the most part, these two gals have been totally hip to my pregnancy.
The other day, Shannon and I were discussing the upcoming spookfest. We chatted about Oliver (her little guy) and that I am going to be visiting my nephew, Davis, for the festive Friday. Shannon asked “What is the baby going to be” … perplexed and dumbfounded, I responded “The baby?”. I was so confused. Generally, I find Shannon to be rather wise but seriously, who would be strange enough to festoon their fetus for the festivities? She repeated, “yeah, what’s the baby going to be?”. I then realized that she was referring to Davis. What was Davis going to be for Halloween. I countered, obviously sarcastic “What do you want me to do… swallow a pair of the glasses with the nose and the mustache and hope that Snowball knows how to put them on? I suppose it would make for a freaky looking ultrasound”. (Imagine, little Brehm all tricked out for treats. I am sure I could make a bundle on America’s Funniest Home Videos.) Shannon always puts up with my antics and has been thrilled since day one about Baby Brehm’s journey to join us.
Melissa is gearing up to take the GRE on Saturday. Each day, she flips through a load of flashcards over lunch and commits words like knell and acerbic to memory. What she will do with the knowledge post-test, I cannot say but what she will do with cards, I can answer you that! Having quizzed her on a few occasions, I have requested that once she’s completed her testing task, she give me the cards so that I can quiz Snowball. What else does our little child have to do in the womb all day? We might as well start now (Okay, perhaps I am wanting the cards to beef up my wordbook but that seems too nerdy for me to admit… pregnancy does weird things to a gal). Melissa also entertains my crazy ideas including having her friend Jordan (a pianist) play songs I like onto a CD that I could then listen to while in labor and listens each week as I share with her Snowball’s sprouting status. In fact, she recently shared with her 22 year old friends that her co-worker was pregnant and the baby was currently the size of a banana.
Although we are just three strong in our office, it has been a riot thus far having Shannon and Melissa in on my rite of passage to parenthood. Hopefully, I don’t become too momzilla on them as the pregnancy progresses. They say it takes a village to raise a child but I think it also takes a village to favor a fetus.