For the entire first trimester, I wanted to shout it from the rooftops that I was pregnant, but being a healthy worrier required I hold onto the secret a little longer. It was particularly unbearable because truthfully, I’m a natural born
gossip sharer. My motto: I over-share because I care. And the pregnancy type of gossip? Some of my fave. You should have seen my mature reaction to the news that my girl Beyoncé was with child. Air kicks and jazz hands ensued. I am not ashamed.
Alas, I was also harboring the guilt that a random sales lady in the Phoenix area knew my secret BEFORE MY OWN MOTHER because I was acting a “middle school fool” with a secret I promised not to tell, but of course meant I had to tell. I’m sure the sales lady wanted to know I bought the skirt with the stretchy waistband because; “I’m pregnant!” squealed at only octaves Mariah Carey can pleasingly reach. And I’m just going to pretend things didn’t get a little awkward when I went in for a congratulatory hug.
The pregnancy coming out process is a big deal these days. You can’t just phone the VIPs in your life and say, “We’re having a baby!” So passé.
This isn’t, heaven forbid, the pre-social media era of the 80s where creativity was dormant and everybody didn’t GET to know your business. There are no excuses to be unoriginal, or at least not to copy someone else’s idea when you have a plethora of perfect, anxiety-inducing Pinterest birth announcement ideas at your mouse-tip. A birth announcement that doesn’t manage to include the ever prominent mason jars, hair braiding, striped straws, and quinoa is no birth announcement at all. I mean, do you love your unborn child?
Don’t even get me started on Facebook. It’s teeming with sweat-inducing pressure. To post or not to post the sonogram? That is the question. To dramatically circle or not to circle your future baby’s man parts? Decisions, decisions. Don’t tell me I’m the only one to feel the pressure, people. I’ve got 99 skills but creativity ain’t one.
I’m sure everyone suspected we were with child anyway. Our first born is at a socially acceptable age to try for a second, and the curious regularly started asking when we are having more. The more forward folk asked me flat out if I was pregnant.
Life lesson time: That question is never okay. NEVER. I don’t care if someone is in the nine months beached whale stage; you mind your p’s and q’s and wait for them to tell you. I’ve seen my own mother prostrate on the couch for an entire day bemoaning the fact that someone wrongly asked her when she was due. The lady has birthed 6 children au natural and the thing that brought her to her knees was the nosy pregnancy police. That was a very impressionable lesson from the streets. When it comes to pregnancy, it’s simply a “Don’t Ask” policy.
Despite it all, we were ready to tell. I couldn’t wait to come out and tell everyone we were ready for the magical tomfoolery of a newborn again. We had our copy cat creative idea all ready to go: A secret scratch and reveal mailer. Be impressed. There’s nothing like the suspense of imagining our family and friends scratching and grinning at what they all suspected, then dialing up our digits and air kicking, jazz handing, and squealing along with us.