rainbowflagThere are some secrets you can only keep for so long.  

I am so pregnant, you guys.

Keeping secrets can be good or bad, healthy or not, and it’s all about intuition.  I wrote earlier this year about how silence during pregnancy can be more harmful than we realize, and I stand by it.  But, the real gist of that article was that you should tell who you want, when you want.  Which takes some awareness and intuition to really understand, rather than just going on what your fear or expectations are telling you.

In my last pregnancy, I told a lot of people, right away.  It felt really right.  That pregnancy felt so serendipitous, so natural, and I went with it.  I was about to make the public, formal announcement to anyone who didn’t know yet, when we had a miscarriage at almost 13 weeks.  It was heartbreaking for so many reasons, not the least of which was the automatic questioning of my intuition – how could I have felt so good about something that wasn’t ever meant to be?  It was a disturbing and cruel irony.

This time around, I felt a lot more like letting the air out of the balloon slowly.  A person here, a person there.  Whoever felt right to tell, and whenever I felt safe.  If I didn’t feel safe, whether with the person or with myself that day, I didn’t say anything.  There were times it felt unnatural, but it always felt right.

I’m almost 18 weeks now.  In fact, we find out if we’re having a girl or a boy in a few days.  Part of me is tempted to wait until after that appointment to make this announcement.  We’ll know for sure if we’re working with 10 fingers and toes, limbs where they’re supposed to be, and growth markers on track.  But, as much as I have trusted and honored my need for an extra bit of privacy and safety during this pregnancy, I also know that it is time to publicly honor this life and this time in my life.

Because I know, more than ever, that there isn’t a day that comes where all the fears are put to rest and all the unknowns are known.  When you say yes to becoming a mother, you say yes to holding all of that uncertainty – forever.

So, I’m letting the rest of the air out of the balloon all at once.  It’s not safe; we’re not all safe.  But we are loved, and we are together in this journey, you and me.

We’d love for you to hope with us for this rainbow baby.