So many words in my head…
I don’t know exactly how to get them out. I never know where to start.
You see, I have this problem. I want to keep a secret. And I’m terribly, terribly bad at keeping secrets. Almost as bad as my mom, who frequently asks, “do you want to try to guess what I bought you for Christmas? It’s really, really great! You’re going to love it… … … Okay, I’ll tell you!”
I want to keep a secret, because after having two miscarriages, I’m not prepared for a third. After experiencing the joy of finding out we were pregnant, and sharing the news – but then having to inform everyone of our loss afterwards – I feel like my legs were constantly cut out from under me. I would be fine, no problem, happy until someone would look at me sadly and say they were sorry. I was great, over it, moving on until someone would walk up out of no where and give me a hug. I was getting on with my life until a lady in the check out line asked me how old my son was, and upon hearing he was 15 months proclaimed, “Well! It’s time to try again!”
I was tired of being reduced to tears and the smallest of things. I was tired of feeling that twinge of jealousy over friends that were finding out they were pregnant, or having babies.
So I decided to keep everything a secret.
Only… it’s on my mind. All the time. Every moment of every day, all I’m thinking about is my secret. All I want to blog about is my secret, and related stories. It’s all I can do not to shout my secret from the rooftops.
I told Brock last night that I can’t write, I have nothing to write because I can’t write about it. His reply? “Well, then tell everyone!”
So here you have it: I am pregnant.
Mom, I’m sorry you find this out here. Jane, I’m sorry we didn’t tell you this weekend. We were trying to keep it a secret! To tell everyone once we were out of the first trimester, once we were out of the danger zone. And then I realized… that’s not what I do. I write about the good AND the bad.
The good. Brock and I are pregnant again.
The better. This time, we have a heartbeat!
The bad? It’s been touch and go for a little while, with spotting and a subchorionic hemorrhage by ultrasound.
But I am seven and a half weeks pregnant, farther than I’ve gotten for sure with either of my last pregnancies. I am sick as a dog, tired all the time, excited and feeling positive.
Please, keep your fingers crossed for us. We’re hoping that this one sticks.
Also, if you work with me… outing this on my blog is the same as going public. So feel free to talk about me behind my back. Or to my face. Whichever.
