On Easter Sunday, we told Will's sister that we are pregnant (a little over 11 weeks pregnant). She was hosting the whole family, but we went over briefly several hours early to be able to break the news before her preparations were in full gear. She was very happy for us - and gave Will a huge hug, which was nice. When Will went outside to play with our dog Moxie and her sons, she said she knew I must be very nervous, but that I would start to feel better as time passed, in particular once we got to 23 weeks. I nodded, but inside, I was thinking - 23 weeks! I won't feel better at 23 weeks! It would be very dangerous - maybe fatal - if the baby came then!! I'll feel better maybe around 28 weeks, when if the baby comes it stands a high chance of being ok!! But this didn't seem constructive, or even really her point. So I kept it to myself. She also started comparing me to other women who in her mind have struggled. I'm not sure why she did this. We weren't even talking about the pain or difficulty of anything. This was a happy news moment. And then unfortunately her examples of women who struggled didn't go over so well with me. One example was one of Will's cousins. Poor woman has four kids but hasn't been able to conceive another despite her desire to do so. I do feel bad for her...some...but it's not really the same thing. Her other example was someone else who conceived her first child accidentally, but now had had a miscarriage and had already spent six months trying to conceive her second. I felt myself wanting to say something. Wanting to say how these women aren't like me at all - how it's different when you have spent five years doing many IVFs, have six miscarriages under your belt, and zero children, and are at the stage you are thinking you aren't ever going to have any. But what would have been the point of that? She was trying to...trying to...well, I'm not sure, really. But saying something wouldn't have helped. I know she only meant good things.
We also told my mom on Easter morning. I had sent her a framed picture of one of my ultrasounds. I knew from package tracking that it had arrived on Saturday AM. I'd wrapped the frame and put a note on it that said to call me before opening... but no call came... so come Easter morning, I called her. We chatted for a bit and then I asked her about the package. Package? She didn't know what I was talking about. Hmmm...she said, maybe she should check the front porch. And lo and behold, it was there. She opened it, and then started making strange noises. She wasn't able to speak really. Finally she said my name, and Oh! several times. She said this was such a surprise. She said she'd been hoping for us and wondering, but didn't want to pressure us by asking anything. She started to ask me if we'd gone to Denver for this...and then halfway through stopped herself, saying aloud, "It doesn't matter how you did this. This is just wonderful!" Good answer, Mom! She was just over the moon. It was wonderful to get to hear her excitement and enthusiasm. She is still that excited now...many days later. It makes me happy to hear her elation about this.
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