Me and my big mouth.
My Beloved and I weren't totally sure what we'd do if we ever found ourselves in the enviable position of having to decide to tell family and friends about a brand new pregnancy. There were certainly more cons than pros, given our less than stellar reproductive history. Even just the two miscarriages made us wary of spilling the beans too soon. And then there was Thomas.
But because I can't keep my big gaping maw shut, anyone and everyone who reads this blog (family, friends and strangers) now knows that I'm in the two week wait, with increased chances that something might indeed be percolating within.
I've taken away our ability to choose when we will announce our happy news (if we do indeed get some).
I'm an idiot. Our choice now is to tell the truth or lie. Fantastic.
It's not that we want to withhold good news (for God's sake, we revel in even the tiniest bit of it ourselves, so we know how news this big and this good would make the people we love feel) it's just that we're possibly the most gun-shy people on the planet when it comes to second lines on a pee stick. And when we see them this time - if we see them - we'll need time to absorb it all. To mourn our boy as we celebrate the possibility of a new life, and to make sense of our excitement, fear, bewilderment and disbelief.
And it would be nice to be able to do that without every single person we know staring at us.
Which brings us back to my flapping pie hole. I'm kind of sorry I opened it. And I don't know what we'll do now, so all I can say is please don't ask. Please let us do this the way we need to, even though it might be hard for you while you're waiting and wondering.
Just imagine how much harder it is for us and give us the space we need.
As for me, I guess I'll have to bind my fingers so I can't type and keep my mouth full of cookies so I can't speak.
Hmmm. The cookie thing doesn't sound half bad...