Sarah Avery (dr_pretentious) wrote,
Sarah Avery
dr_pretentious

Belatedly Confessing To My Good News

I have been careful to keep this news mostly under wraps online, but here it is: I'm pregnant. At the moment, almost 32 weeks pregnant, or about seven months, due September 9th. Everything's going well. Gareth's excited about getting a little brother. Dan and I are relieved we didn't have to resort to IVF this time. I'm...well, I'm looking forward to meeting my long-awaited and much-wished-for younger son, but I'm also feeling all 40 of my 40 years, and vowing never to subject myself to pregnancy again. Pregnancy is hard, even when it's relatively uncomplicated.

At first, I delayed this announcement because I didn't want to jinx the pregnancy, or to get a lot of questions about how it was going if it didn't stick. (There's nothing like hearing people wish you well with your baby when you've just had a miscarriage--once was enough for that experience.)

I kept postponing the announcement because the Big Book was (and still is) in a slush pile where I'd very much like to see it picked up, and I didn't want to give the editors any extra reasons to reject it. If I were in the editors' position, I might hesitate to sign with a writer who still had most of a pregnancy ahead of her, to be followed, if all went well, by four months of epic sleep deprivation while caring for a newborn. It might--as, I confess, it has--put a serious crimp in the writer's productivity. As a mentor of mine from academia used to say, universities don't hate mothers or families, but they do hate problems, so never let them see your family as a problem. That advice seems to apply about organizations of all kinds, and I don't see any reason to think publishing houses are different.

Now my pregnancy is so far along, it would be kind of weird if I just announced a birth out of the blue in September and only the people who knew me in real life had any inkling it was coming. In real life, I am gravid, bulbous, and occasionally beset by vigorous bouts of fetal kicking.

I am also blessed with the help of my 17-year-old cousin Ian, who has just come to live with us for the summer and lend a hand while I get my house in order, my toddler prepared, and my contracted manuscripts polished and sent. I may even be able to post on this blog at my accustomed twice-weekly pace again. We'll see.
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