God bless my husband, but he has a huge mouth. Yesterday, instead of working, he called everyone and anyone to tell them the news. I hate that he feels compelled to do this. Doesn't he know how bad of luck it is?
I'm one of those women who don't want to think about anything baby until I'm actually holding a screaming infant in my arms. In my perfect world, we would call everyone with the news from the delivery room. Maybe not even then.
I'm terribly neurotic. I've already begun the "wipe myself raw with TP, checking for spotting" ritual. That one can become quite costly. Only the best toilet paper for me. Can't be scratching my ass up with the cheap stuff. I'm also is a bit of a fog. I go from acceptance to denial in about 15 seconds flat. I freak out because I don't feel pregnant yet, oh god, why don't I feel pregnant yet? Um, maybe because you are like 4 weeks along, silly girl. Nevermind the logistics, it doesn't help. I'm already convinced this will end in failure. Sad I know, but what are you gonna do. Miscarriages really fuck up your view on pregnancy. Gone are the carefree days of happy baby thoughts, shopping for everything baby in the first trimester. Now, you are lucky to feel happy, truly happy for 5 minutes a day.
My husband on the other hand, he's already got the kid in college. Bless his heart, the forever optimist. I just wish he would keep it to himself.