on telling...

I sit here in fear trying to live minute by minute.

I have lost a baby before through m/c. I know what it is like to have to tell everyone I know that I am no longer pregnant. I have listened to the thoughtful and thoughtless remarks meant to appease an unappeasable pain. I have spiraled down into an almost ridiculous mental breakdown making wildly stupid decisions when in the depths of that pain. I have come out the other side and gotten so lucky and gotten pregnant again and had the joy of having a child.

I went through terror and fear throughout that pregnancy as well. But through that one, and apparently through this one, I tell. It is compulsive. I do not want to. I am afraid to, but I do. I tell everyone. I am not talking close friends and family. I find myself telling the mail person I do not know. I tell the bagger at the grocer. I tell the notary public. I tell the neighbors. I tell.

I wish I didn't. I am honest about this. I wish I didn't. I am so terrified about having to tell everyone the bad news if it comes. I am so worried about how telling will build it up more causing it to make me really fall apart more if the worst happens. I cannot, I will not, I do not have the luxury to spiral down and make stupid decisions when I have a kid. There is no room for that. There is no room for telling everyone before the second trimester. Yet here I am, telling.

In the past week more amazing, strong, wonderful women than I want to even think about have gotten devastating news about their pregnancies ending, or not being viable, or being in a bad way. All of them got pregnant the same month as me. It has been so heartbreaking, and wreaking havoc with my psyche. Yet, through all this, I am still telling.

I am sad tonight.