How I got here.
I had a miscarriage. A long time ago.
Last February, actually. And then we took a break, and then we decided two kids was good enough for us. But it wasn't and we changed our minds. But instead of getting pregnant quickly, like all the times before, it took months.
So here we are. Pregnant. Yesterday, Shawn announced it on Facebook, and people were congratulating us. I realized that we forgot to tell a lot of people. We haven't seen many people in a while and we didn't feel the need to overshare. We aren't just pregnant; we're half way to the finish line. Now that the baby is rolling around and elbowing my belly whenever I rest (even as I type this), it seems a little late to apologize for not sharing something so happy with caring people who surround us.
My doctor, who is also a friend, tells me it is common for women to be a little aloof with their subsequent pregnancy after a miscarriage. This has been the experience for me. We didn't tell our kids, friends or families until I couldn't hide it any longer. I'd pull aside my boxy denim shirts and frame my belly with my hands, and they would invariably say, "woah!" I guess I was a master of disguise. It wasn't until this time - around 14 weeks - that Shawn turned to me and said, "when are you due anyways?" We hadn't talked about it. I didn't even look it up until after I heard the heart beat. We didn't get attached to this pregnancy, and although we talked about morning sickness all the time, we rarely talked about the baby. I think it is the only way to cope with what you worry might be impending loss.
As my doctor-friend said, "people find out they are pregnant and they jump to the birth, but 40 weeks is a long time, and a lot can happen between now and then." Its so true, and while we are in awe and so much more appreciative of this (our final) pregnancy than any of our others, our excitement is tempered with sensibility.