My Beloved and I decided to go ahead and share our news with our family and friends on Thanksgiving. You know, because, everyone is thankful for the upcoming opportunity to change diapers and get puked on for a couple of years only to be rewarded with more and different things such as, “the terrible twos” and the realization that you may never eat in a restaurant again. Oh! And germs! And paying for college! I digress. Anyway, yeah. Thanksgiving.
We decided that, since no one is really making a big to-do about the holiday this year and my mom is out of state for a funeral (and, already knows and is buying massive quantities of unisex baby gear), we just would “bring dessert” to dinner on Thursday. We’ll bring a pumpkin pie with the words “we’re pregnant” written on top and then present it to his mom and watch her spaz for a while and then I will gorge myself with turkey (or said pie) and then take a nap. That’s the plan. I then plan to Facebook bomb everyone else because if I have to say the words one more time, I might hurl myself off a bridge. This way, everyone can react from the privacy of their own homes and will, hopefully, not feel the need to call and discuss it with ME. Because, as previously discussed, I am not sure I can handle the oohs and awwwws. I am queasy enough, people. Besides, if you are a person I would allow oohs and awws from, then you didn’t find out about it over Facebook. Duh.
The only person in my family left to tell was really my dad, because my mom has opened her big, fat mouth to everyone else, although she keeps insisting that she hasn’t but when my grandma said, “So, am I hearing rumors about you or not?” I sort of figured it out. I was waiting for a time to actually speak with him, (he is fairly hard to get on the phone because there is a 16 hour time difference) but finally decided that, if I didn’t want him to find out on Facebook too, I’d better send him an email pretty soon. I did that yesterday. I feel that my dad is going to be a big, sappy mess when I talk to him. And that makes me uncomfortable.
The anxiety is slowly lifting for me, though. I have been able to speak openly with several of the women in my office but have asked that they are respectful of my privacy and so far, that seems to have worked. As we near Thanksgiving, I am starting to feel more and more comfortable with the idea that people will know and I can just move on with my life, panic free! (And believe me, I am aware that it may seem ridiculous the amount of panic I have about this but I am uber-private and having the kind of news I cannot hide takes away a bit of my control and makes me feel…well…naked. And the thought of myself as a naked, pregnant lady, disturbs me…)
On an entirely different note, I have learned that, while the mere thought of maternity clothes sent shivers up my spine just a few short weeks ago, they are delightful. I can’t speak to the tops yet, as I have no need for them at this point but I would like to share with you that I have purchased 5 pairs of maternity pants on eBay and I am having trouble with the idea that, after I have this baby, I will have to go back to wearing regular pants. Seriously. Do I have to? It seems to me that I should get to be comfortable and not feel like an overstuffed sausage, like, all the time. Not just when I am knocked up. I think ALL women should be wearing maternity clothes! Down with non-elastic waists!
That’s really all I got.