Monday, August 8th, 2011
We’ve been sharing our big news over the past two weeks, which has been lots of fun, for the most part. My method is generally to wait until there’s an opening in the conversation, and then to mention it, casually, in context. For instance, we told one side of my family during our recent trip to the lake. My brother’s baby-mama was changing their adorable 6-month-old, Arlo, born in January of this year. We’re due in January of next year, so I said, “It’s crazy to think that next year at this time, our baby girl will be as old as Arlo is now.”
I just love that moment of silence as everyone pieces things together, and the excited eruption that follows.
It’s such a relief to not have to keep things under wraps anymore. Instead of continually and mysteriously turning down social invites, we can continually turn down social invites with no mystery whatsoever. We can’t go because I am tired and feel like crap. Because I’m pregnant. The end.
Clint was excited to tell the few other guys on his current construction job; just to get it out there, maybe learn a thing or two about what raising a baby girl is like. The day he did, I asked what their reaction was, and he said, “Oh, they were happy for me. And you know what? One time so-and-so’s wife was pregnant, and INSERT HORRIFIC PREGNANCY STORY WITH THE WORST POSSIBLE ENDING HERE.”
Me: “Let me get this straight. You told him I’m pregnant, and he tells a terrible, frightening pregnancy story?”
Clint: “Well, apparently it was this super-rare…”
I cut him off. No details, please. It’s totally fine with me if he can stomach those worst-case scenario stories. He’s not the one with joyriding hormones who’s found a new hobby in constantly poking at his protruding belly, in the hopes of eliciting little baby-movement flutters.
I, on the other hand, cannot do that to myself. Not now. I’ve heard my share of completely heartbreaking rare-occurrence stories. We all have. The ones where something that never happens happens, at a time deep into the pregnancy, when everything seemed like it was moving along just fine. I’ve mentally filed away every one of those stories, timeline and all. I rest a little bit easier when I pass that same point in my pregnancy, as if I’ve dodged bullet.
A little commiseration between friends? No problem. Common pregnancy hurdles that are overcome? I can take it. Even rare pregnancy hurdles are OK, just as long as they end happy. Anything that doesn’t conclude with a healthy baby going home with mom and dad? Kindly save it for roughly five more months. Make it six, just to be safe. My hormones should be OK with obeying the posted speed limit by then.Add a Comment