Hey Bean -

Welcome to the second trimester. 

Not that you've noticed.  You are not playing fair - since I feel exactly like I have for the past few months.  But - the books tell me you should stop being so ornery soon.

I'll believe it when I see it.

So.  Let's see what's new.  I guess I need to tell you that - despite our best efforts - the world now knows you are on your way here.

And by the world - I mean our office.

I'd been dreading this day, not because I am not excited about it but because well - it's difficult to work here on a normal day but now...

...it's all over.

And it's my fault.  Can you even believe it?  I was so sure it would be Jim.  I watch him all day long and I can see he can barely contain himself.    But I've been on a mission to keep it a secret as long as I possibly can.  I just knew what it'd be like and I wanted to savor my (already limited) privacy. 

It's really not been easy.  I've been wearing sweaters again to try and keep covered up, and have tried to find the most slimming of skirts (hard to do when your waist expands by the second it seems - but I picked up a black one with elastic at Target). 

I've also refrained from eating entire half gallons of ice cream at my desk (even though that's truly the only thing I can keep down these days).  

Bean, we're supposed to have branched out by now.  Please try and keep up.

Seriously.  Such a slacker. 

Anyway, we were waiting to say anything, more for my own sanity than anything else really. 

It makes it easier if I am very careful not to say the following words while at work.  Mostly because just writing them makes me grin like a lunatic:

Pregnant

Baby

Doctor

Due

I've also been very careful not to reply to Dwight when he says the following:

Inseminate

Breed

Mate

Gestate

I know.  Why would I even have to worry right?  But you'd be surprised.  This stuff comes up more than you'd ever imagine in the day to day operations at a paper company.

Anyway.  I was the one who let it slip. It happened so quickly I couldn't stop it. 

This, I am sure, will not shock you but your father finds this all incredibly amusing.

So basically I was sitting in the conference room because Michael is entering a recipe contest on the Food Network for "foods on the go" and he's all crazy about it so he wanted to present his first creation - which was this really disgusting tuna salad.

So lucky me - of all the people in the room  he tried to make me eat it.  And when I say "tried to make me eat it" I mean he shoved a forkful of it in my face, just under my nose. 

Oh God.  It was awful.  I almost got sick right there - which would not have been good.

So even if I were to contemplate tasting it, even if I were allowed to eat it - you clearly don't like tuna, Bean.  Especially not this version, which had three types of bread chopped up and tossed around with it (one of which I think was cinnamon raisin) plus I think both Velveeta cheese and tomato soup.

It was the "Tuna Unsandwich" or something.  I honestly couldn't pay too much attention to what he was saying.

I was too busy gagging.

So I tried to get him to stop and then before I knew it I stood up and just blurted out.  "NO.  I'm not allowed to eat tuna anymore, Michael."

And then Andy piped in with "Waaait.  That's not what she said. Is there trouble in Paradise, Tuna?" 

(Why he calls your father "Tuna" is a long story that I wouldn't have even mentioned  except it sort of helps explain what happened here.)

And then Dwight said, "Why? Are you with child?"

With child?  C'mon.  Who says that?  Is this 1898 or something? 

But before I knew it I said,  "Yes. As a matter of fact I am."

Then the whole thing was kind of a blur.  Your father laughed (really loudly I might add) and I sort of got lightheaded and then Michael went crazy and made me sit back down and put my feet up (which I have to admit was kind of sweet).

I do remember that then Dwight said something about knowing the cycles were off lately.

Gross.

And I think Kelly said something about me looking 'huge' and 'kinda puffy' these days.

Typical.

So anyway - the secret's out - which makes me kind of relieved to be honest.

And I can finally wear clothes that actually fit me now. 

Plus your father is excited that he can enter Kevin's proposed baby pool.  I hear there are actually two.  One for predicting when you will get here,  and one - that I don't fully understand - that bets on when you were actually conceived.

Somehow I think your dad has that one cornered.  I just wonder how on earth they plan to prove it. 

Nevermind.  Forget I said anything.  I'm creeping myself out.  I'm sorry Bean.  I promise you my next letter will have nothing to do with this subject. 

Truly.   I think I owe you one.

Love you.  Always,

Mom