I thought I could say something to my Mom this past weekend about the pregnancy, but I just couldn’t form the words. As many of you wise folks asked, what’s the harm in waiting? While I would hope there would be no harm, my Mother – bless her dear bitter soul, is a bit depressive and I worry she will be angry if I withhold this news until her return early March.
I should also mention that she knows nothing in detail about our treatments except that she’s aware of some of our trips to The Metro to see a doctor. Not only that, but she has no idea that I’ve had three other miscarriages after Vivienne. I guess one of the reasons I never mentioned it was due to a conversation we had shortly after my miscarriage in 2004 where she just couldn’t believe that this had happened to me as she never had any problems conceiving and carrying a child.
Yeah. OK, Mom. I won’t ask then what form of birth control you used between child number three and child number four in which there was a 7 year dry spell. A perfect example of how ignorance is not only bliss but somehow gives one a free pass to push the ego.
I admit that I’m still entertaining the idea of telling her before she leaves, which as one of you suggested, on the trip to the airport since I’m the one who was volunteered for that job. Then again, my next doctor appointment is Tuesday (she flies out Wednesday) and the whole issue may be moot.
Sunday night I thought I picked up a heartbeat on the doppler, but now I’m not so sure, especially since I haven’t been able to get it again. I’m just hoping I’m on the ebb portion of the ebb/flow of pregnancy symptoms and not just because Murdock is . . . well, you know. While I’ve gained a couple of pounds since November, I noticed one missing today and I’m not as bloated or as symptomatic as I had been this weekend.
I never realized how lucky I was to make it to 15 weeks with Vivienne as it seemed to have been over in a blink. These past 11 weeks have been nothing less than eternal.