Saturday, November 26
The cat is officially out of the bag. Man, I suck at secrets. We spilled the beans to our families Thanksgiving morning. My mom did her typical interested-for-2-minutes-then-it’s-all-about-her routine. I texted my sister, who didn’t respond for 24 hours, but then texted back congrats. DH called his father, brother and his mom. His mom was with her sisters and her mother and there were many squeels in the background, I guess, including, “You’re going to be a great grandmother!” At least one family got it right.
At Thanksgiving dinner, we told our guests. After we gorged ourselves but before dessert, I asked everyone to say what they’re most thankful for. When it was my turn, I said, “I’m thankful for my wonderful friends, my amazing husband who cooks, and the tiny little human that is growing in my belly as we speak.” The reaction was hilarious. E jumped out of her chair and embraced me from behind. K didn’t react at all, just stared at me, like, “Are you fucking with me?” Then there was a round of hugs. Then a list of why it’s awesome, followed by a list of why it’s awful. K had just finished trying to plan my birthday, which involved a strip club. Oops, so much for that!
Then yesterday we sent out an email to all our other friends, letting them know. I asked for their best wishes in the next 7 months or so and asked them to keep it off Facebook so I can keep it from my work a little longer. It probably won’t work anyway, since I’m the worst at keeping secrets. Coworkers will probably notice my cubicle naps, (seriously, the exhaustion. I’ve never felt this tired before) my aversion to all smells, or my many bathroom visits, not to mention if I have to dry heave into my garbage can. I suppose I can always just say I’m hungover. That’s pretty believable.