We’re telling our parents this weekend. This is both exciting and terrifying. Don’t get me wrong, they’re all going to be very happy. I’m not worried that they’ll have a negative reaction. Telling them is the exciting part, even if it gives me the shakes beforehand. The scary part is that, the more people who know, the more real it seems. And that’s what makes me say “please please please, don’t let anything go wrong.” I really don’t want to have to turn around and tell them bad news after giving them such good news. That’s what occasionally makes me think “wait a minute, was this a mistake? Maybe we shouldn’t tell anyone at all.” But we’re stil doing it, and that’s alright.
I’ve been a little more moody the last day or two. I suppose it could be hormones shooting me all over the place, but I think it’s anxiety. As great as it was to see the ultrasound, that just added a whole new level of terrifying reality to this whole thing. So one minute, I’ll be happily daydreaming about babies in nurseries, fun ways to tell people at work, and prenatal yoga. The next, I’m feeling downright crabby. I’m overwhelmed by the whole thing. The reality of it, the possibility that it could all still go wrong, and all of the details. Yesterday I was just about as snarky as they come for most of the morning, in part because I had started thinking about telling my mom, and that was somehow frightening.
Alas, we’re off to Florida to tell my in-laws (oh, and celebrate the high holidays with them. That, too.). Fun in the sun, bringing the dog along for the adventure. Back again later.
