I'm having a baby. (Oh, and Christmas, too.)
On Wednesday my "sub" - if you can really call her that, given that she'll be taking over my classes for essentially the second half of the year - came in to observe and get some information about what I do. I've never had to plan to be away from my classes for more than two days at a time, so I've never sat down and thought about what it means to explain to someone what I do all day every day. There's a lot to cover, and while she is welcome to do whatever she wants (within reason, obviously), we both agree that it will be an easier transition if she at least knows the basics and has some time to plan before being hit by the freight train that is nearly 180 freshmen.
For her, I'd imagine this was a stress-fest, because as I handed over two giant binders of materials, a textbook, a flash drive full of information, a faculty handbook, and a stack of IEPs, I was starting to wonder myself how I handled all of that information. For me, though, too, it was meaningful in a different way - because all of the sudden, this whole journey felt very real.
I have done the morning sickness thing. My stomach has grown so big that random people in shopping centers do double takes when the see me waddling about. Women offer me advice like it is their duty. I go to the doctor every two weeks. My husband and I spend more time surrounded by tiny clothes, putting together things that rock, vibrate, swing, and play lullabies than we do out with our friends. But it wasn't until I was handing over a binder full of Romeo and Juliet teaching materials that it dawned on me that all of this was really happening, and soon, in a way that it hadn't before. This, combined with the 2nd of 2 labor and delivery classes at the hospital just the night before, was enough to make a wave of anticipation hit me. Here we go.
33 weeks down. 7 (give or take a few) to go.
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