Growing a baby and letting the dissertation lie fallow

I'm a fairly private person to begin with, so announcing that I'm in the condition is difficult to say the least. Telling my parents was like declaring that I've had sex and there was a little bit of shame in it. I felt as if I was seventeen and had "forgotten" to use contraception. In reality, at seventeen I was overly careful, worried about wreaking my future greatness and my then current freedom from responsibility

Instead of seventeen, I'm twenty-nine and this was no accident. It was planned. If I would have told my mother at seventeen that I was pregnant, I would have been lambasted by disappointed glares and tears. This time I had to hold my cell away from my ear as my mother squealed in such a high pitch preteen girls usually reserve for the latest flavour. At least I'm receiving the kind of welcome Justin Bieber is probably bored with.

After our parents, we told most people - or at least the nosy ones who just kept pestering us until we admitted it. I still haven't told my phd supervisor yet. Maybe he's already guessed that something's amiss. I've been even less consistent with my work this summer than previously. Well, here's to Monday folks.