Rutabaga

Another Tuesday, another week to tick off the pregnancy counter. I'm now at 25 weeks (nice round number) and I'm told that the baby is the size of a rutabaga. Don't know about you, but this is another one of those totally unhelpful comparisons, since I couldn't identify a rutabaga if I ran into one on the street.

A few "milestones" this week: first, we bought our first baby gear -- finally placed an order for a crib. I was told it would take 60-90 days to come in, which at first seemed great, until I realized that 90 days would actually be cutting it a bit close. I'm hoping for closer to 60, to give poor S some time to puzzle over the assembly instructions before he's too sleep deprived.

Second, I went up another bra size. I actually had to ask someone what size came next. I'm still kind of in shock about this one. Yikes.

Third, some non-baby news. I've started to gather signatures to finalize my doctoral thesis committee. The goal is to have my committee squared away and a potential workable thesis timetable agreed upon before my maternity leave.

And fourth, tying the baby and non-baby news together: I was yet again mistaken for a secretary. Several factors are working against me here. (1) My field is 90% male, so yes, if you run into a woman, she is more likely to be a secretary than a scientist. (2) There are only ~4 female professors in my department, so everybody knows who they are. That leaves students, of which I am (I think) the oldest female student. (Most PhD students are 5-10 years younger than me.) So, I look older than the students, but they know I'm not a professor.... (3) It's perhaps funny for me to say this while complaining about being stereotyped, but ... most of the female students match your typical "nerd" image. A bit unkempt. Uncombed hair. A little greasy. Pale skin. Most of them aren't going on a whole lot of dates (almost every female student I know is single). So the thought of one of them being pregnant, meaning that they've actually had sex recently? Not so likely. So yes, you run into an unknown thirtysomething pregnant woman walking through the halls, the odds are that she's a secretary. Still -- please stop asking me for photocopies and coffee. The whole experience has also given me an extra dollop of respect for secretaries because wow -- I thought grad students got very little respect, but when guys think I'm a secretary, they're downright RUDE.

Finally, on the topic of sex before pregnancy: when I told one of my cousins that I was pregnant, she told me that she hated announcing her pregnancy, because she felt like it was equivalent to walking up to coworkers / managers / acquaintances and saying "Guess what! I had unprotected sex a few months ago!" I thought this was odd, but now, every time someone on the street looks at my baby bump, I can't help but feel like I'm wearing a giant sign, Scarlet Letter style. My husband points out that, you know, I'm married, but I really don't think that's the point.