Telling people you are pregnant is a really interesting exercise in tactical maneuvering.
It’s nothing like engagement. Oh no my friends, some people get offended. Or at least in your hightened hormonal state you are paranoid that everyone will get offended.
We opted for the slow boat approach. David found out when I came out of the bathroom, pregnancy test in hand, went into the office and stuttered “Ummm, I think I’m pregnant.” Pretty sure we were so shocked that after the initial hug, he went back to studying and I went back to writing. It was one of those moments that you can label and file away in the “What the Crap Just Happened” drawer.
It got a little more real when we told the immediate family. Here’s that story. Then the grandparents got a call, then the aunts and uncles and cousins. Then the besties. It stopped there.
For my own sanity, I put a gag order on everyone up this affrorementioned chain until I hit 12 weeks. You see, like any realist, I knew that there was a chance of miscarriage. And frankly my criteria was if they couldn’t deal with me sobbing hysterically in the event of a miscarriage, then they didn’t get to know.
Then came 12 weeks and one beautiful, healthy ultrasound. After that I would just bring it up in casual conversations.
“Oh yes, it is rather warm today isn’t it? By the way, I’m pregnant.”
The lid was off anyway at that point so we hoped that, as juicy gossip usually does, the news would spread from there.
But of course, nothing is official until it is Facebook official. So without further adieu, making it’s 15 week debut, here is baby Glenn! Wave hello!
