I’ve felt fetal movement. NewBaby doesn’t like me to bend over but does like when I stretch out on my back in the morning. Still small movements, no one outside of my skin has felt NewBaby do tricks. D and I had discussed that, as Munchkin is now at an age to process the pregnancy and what that means to her, it may still be somewhat abstract to her if she can’t feel the baby move. And so we weren’t going to discuss it on this visit.

J had other ideas.

Upon my arrival, Munchkin had taken me to her new (totally awesome) room to show me everything (in all of its awesomeness). As usual, right next to her bed, on her night stand, sat the picture of me, sevenish months pregnant with the Munchkin with D standing beside me. (I hate this picture. It was raining. I look horrid. And no, I’m never scanning it. Ever.) I sit down and she shows me that I’m in the picture and so is her Mommy. I ask her who is in my belly and she says, “A baby.” I leave it at that because she gets very excited about something (ponies, I think) and we move away from the bed.

Skip forward two nights.

J asks if we’ve discussed the pregnancy with her. We say no. We explain why. J says she can handle it and we bring her over. Except then, they’re not doing the talking. It’s me! I’m doing the talking! About this very important matter! And my anxiety sky rockets.

It basically went along the lines of:

Munchkin’sFirstMom: Do you know what’s in my belly?
Munchkin: *Pause.*
Munchkin’sFirstMom: A baby.
Munchkin: Can I see it?
Room of Adults: *Laughter.*
Munchkin’sFirstMom: No, the baby won’t come out until December.
Munchkin: Oh. Why?
Munchkin’sFirstMom: It has to grow bigger.

Adults talk about it for a few minutes, including that the baby will be a new brother or sister for her. She’s still intrigued that there is a human in my belly. This is where things got foggy. We tried to conjure up memories of when JD was in D’s belly. She nodded. Then she was asked whose belly she grew in. She didn’t seem to want to answer. So, J had us go get the infamous picture next to the bed. She correctly identified both D and myself. Then we asked who was in my belly.

BigBrother?

No.

Then we tried to explain that she was the one in my belly. Wrong answer. We maybe should have stopped when she didn’t want to answer whose belly she grew in. She met the information that she was in my belly in that picture with a hearty, “NO!” And then the adults ended the conversation, agreeing that it was a lot to process at eight o’clock in the evening. And that was that.

She didn’t seem phased after the discussion. She went back to playing. She didn’t avoid me at all, or her Mom or her Dad or any of her brothers. Basically, I think everything got a little over her head, with adults expecting answers, and she just wanted the conversation to end. So we ended it.

How do I feel?

Somewhat confused, upset but glad that the initial conversation is over. I’m upset because I don’t ever want to make Munchkin upset. While she didn’t get much more upset than a hearty “NO,” (I’ve seen her get more mad at her brother(s)), I still felt bad. Confused because I don’t know, necessarily, when we’ll next be visiting (I was on bed rest during Munchkin’s pregnancy starting at 18 weeks; 32 weeks with BigBrother) and while I know that this conversation was fully age appropriate and at least brought it up, I still worry that I didn’t cover it properly or that she’ll have questions for me and I’ll be unavailable. (Not that D can’t field her questions but I like to be available when she actually wants to talk to ME, ya know?)

But again, I’m glad that the initial discussion is over and done with. I’m glad that we’re not keeping it from her. I’m glad that’s it’s just over. I was so stressed about it for so long. While it could have gone better in my fantasy of blissful openness, it could have gone much, much worse as well. I can handle this conversation. I can keep it as a memory. I can cherish the laughter we had when she asked if she could see the NewBaby.

But oh! Later! We discussed what we should name the baby. We asked Munchkin.

Munchkin: “Saaaaaaaaaaa-laaaaaaa-MI! SALAMI!”

Sorry, Munchkin, I think we’ll take over the naming rights. But we may just nickname this kiddo Salami. Just for the heck of it.