Sed looks up from her quesadilla, which has (as per usual) been liberally dipped in Sadie's salsa, with a more-than-slightly nauseated look on her face. "You know," she says to me, "I think I'm just going to have to learn to deal with the fact that as of week 32, I can't handle spicy food."

Until this moment, I had never even considered the possibility that this baby might not be mine.