Babyland — Holly Chamberlin

And To Think Pink Was Once My Favorite Color...
Then the stick turned pink. Pink, as in positive...as in pregnant...as in pure, unadulterated panic. This wasn't supposed to happen: I'm scheduled to marry the handsome, successful, and very appropriate Ross Davis in six months. Unfortunately, while Ross may not rock my world with kitchen-table sex, his technique worked well enough to put a bun in my thirty-something oven--a fact of which he's surprisingly proud, considering we'd agreed not to start a family...

It isn't that I don't like kids. Babies are great--in theory. The thing is, I enjoyed my life the way it was. Loved my work as an event planner, my rooftop apartment, my friends; was having fun planning my wedding and gazing at my pretty three-carat diamond. I didn't need anything more...did I? Well, whatever I needed, here's what I currently have: A nasty case of morning sickness; a future mother-in-law who's become obsessed with "Ross's Baby"; a slew of unsolicited name suggestions for him or her; and a custom-designed wedding dress I'll soon be too fat to wear. Add the fact that my best guy friend hates my fiance more with each passing day, and I suppose you could say I'm having a less-than-stellar first trimester.

Now, as I burst the seams on my pencil skirts, I'm trying to take some small comfort in the fact that one is never too bloated for a really cute purse. But impending motherhood also has me reassessing more than my wardrobe--and wondering if thirty-six more weeks is enough time for me to finish growing up...