While still adjusting to the idea that a baby was, in fact, on the horizon, Bryon and I quickly became aware that we needed some sort of nickname to call the baby. Bryon quickly vetoed things like "jellybean". For a day or two, we toyed around with Ziggy the Zygote, but then through the power of Google, I learned that we'd already passed up the zygote stage. Besides, that would mean having to come up with a new "name" for every stage of development, and even though Bryon was throwing out suggestions for those stages like "Eddie the Embryo" and "Frank the Fetus," I had objections. I wanted to come up with a name that would work throughout the pregnancy, and he had a theme of all-male names there. We had long ago decided that we wanted to be surprised by the sex of any babies at the time of their birth, and giving a male name to a baby who could very well be a girl just didn't seem right to me.
Like clockwork, once I got that positive test result, my appetite absolutely skyrocketed. Given my near constant level of ravenousness, I started joking with Bryon that I was pretty sure I wasn't actually gestating a baby, but rather Hungry the Weight Watchers mascot. You know, this guy:
I started calling the baby "Hungry," and it just sort of stuck. Pretty soon Bryon had latched onto it, as well as the friends I had told. (Once we shared the news with my family, they took to the name as well.) We even already had a plush Hungry monster like these guys that I bought at a Weight Watcher's meeting (pre-pregnancy):
So that's the story of how Hungry came to be know as "Hungry". Am I gestating a human baby, or an orange furry monster? Sometimes I wonder. Time will tell!
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