I don’t want to tell anyone about this baby. I mean it. Part of me has that “I don’t want to jinx it” feeling, like things are going so well and the first time I tell someone about it or even buy a package of baby wipes something will go bad.
I’m also incredibly fearful of the reaction to my “happy news.” With John, everyone was so excited. We had so much fun telling everyone! With Drew, some people looked at me like I was nuts to try again. Some people cried not-so-happy tears. I ignored them. I was happy. I marched on with the determination that my baby was going to be just fine.
Except he wasn’t. And a lot of people weren’t surprised.
So here we go again. I don’t want to worry about what other people think of our decision to have another baby. I don’t want to see the looks of certain pity. We are definitely waiting until the genetic test and the anatomy ultrasound come back clean to tell anyone, but I am tempted to hold out even longer.
I suppose if it were up to me, I’d just call everyone up in December and congratulate them on being grandparents. “We want nothing but diapers for Christmas, for no reason at all.”
I spend Sunday with my in-laws and my best pregnancy disguise was a glass of wine. I carried it around with me and pretended to take little sips here and there. My husband drank all of his and the switched glasses with me so it would look like I drank it all. I wear Trendy Tops, which are like Belly Bands but cheaper. I’m loving yoga pants, which I actually wore to work today. I think my co-workers have guessed, but with the new job they won’t get to guess much longer. Then I just have to fool a bunch of new people.
My best friend is pregnant with her second child - a boy. I call her and we talk about horses and work and the new job, but we never discuss her pregnancy and certainly not mine. It feels strange to keep something from the one person who could likely understand me best.
At some point, the reactions of the people who love me most have done something to me that I can’t seem to wish away: I am more afraid to tell people that I am pregnant than I would be to tell them I am having another dead baby.
In my final therapy session, I talked with my counselor about my boys and how now that I am so far away from the terminations, I don’t ever regret them. I love them and they are a part of me, and I wouldn’t “un do” them. While their deaths were traumatic in every way, their lives have become something I carry with me every day. I would miss them if I didn’t have their little spirits with me. That’s a new feeling and it feels pretty good.
That means that even if this pregnancy doesn’t work out the way all pregnancies should just work out, I won’t regret getting pregnant this fourth time.
I just wonder if everyone else would regret it for me.
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