**Disclaimer: This shit is TOP SECRET, yo. Well, as Top Secret as it can be when it's posted on the internet. I can't not blog about this life-changer, but if you know me in real life, please don't share the news. I can't bear to have to make those phone calls or announcements again if things don't end well.
I always thought it would be cool, on Father's Day, to present a father-to-be with a wrapped box containing a SURPRISE! positive pregnancy test. How is it that I forgot completely that Father's Day is this weekend? Of course, giving Jimi a Father's Day gift at all would've garnered a "WTF?" look - we're pretty sensitive around these parts about days made specifically for parents; his are gone, and well, we don't own those titles. Yet. So my cool plan, that I've thought for decades would be cool, has been completely blown. The fact that I was even in a position where I could've made it happen seems wild to me - that I forgot is completely typical.
He's started looking at strollers and carriers and child care options. So much for not getting ahead of ourselves.
My brain is here: A lot of women have miscarriages. I know several who miscarried their first pregnancy and then went on to have a couple of happy healthy babies. Statistics say that most likely, this pregnancy will result in a real live baby of our very own. Because the statistics say that, I want to feel comforted and relaxed. Because the statistics say that, and because I knew everything would be fine the first time, of course the statistics are probably wrong and I'll probably have another miscarriage so I shouldn't get too attached or excited about this pregnancy. If I get my hopes up, I'm setting myself up for heartbreak. If I just expect to see blood every time I go to the bathroom, I won't be as surprised or hurt when it actually happens. I've read those blogs written by all those women who have miscarriage after miscarriage - how could I be so naive as to think that wouldn't happen to me too? I know these thoughts are foolish and probably not normal (whateverinthefuck normal is). I'm scared to even try to find the right balance of hope vs. caution. Logically, I know I'm probably going to have a baby some time next February. Emotionally, I can't let myself picture it because it hurt so fucking bad to be wrong the last time.
The fact that I added that "probably" in there ("I'm probably going to have a baby next February") is indicative of my state of mind. "When we know for sure", "if we really are pregnant", "if things go as planned", "we might be pregnant". Statements we've made in the last few days. I understand that I've got those hormones movin' through me, that I'm pregnant according to medical science and human biology. I'm pregnant. I'm not "a little" or "maybe" or "possibly" pregnant. Right now, at this moment, I'm pregnant. My next immediate thought is "for now" or "but I don't know how long that'll last". I'm protecting myself the best way I know how, I guess.
My fear of enthusiasm doesn't mean it's not there lurking right under the surface, though. I want so badly for this to be real.