Out of Control

So it's out there. The news. Or is it news? Not sure. Either way, I just got my first congratulations from someone I didn't tell. That seems like a milestone I guess. It panics me a bit but I am getting tired of being panicked and upset and anxious and unwell. I want to be fine and glowy and happy and anticipating and excited and planning and glad.

So I'm practicing that, those things. I am practicing thinking on what is right and good and true and lovely. But it's hard work. I am tired from it.

And secretly, it's hard to really be those things when I am busy resenting other people being happy about it when I'm not. Yet. I mean I am, but not first. It takes work to get there, you know?

And the control thing is this - I said that I thought we would be fine telling people who we would tell if something went wrong, and that was true. But I think I meant that for the entire pregnancy. Eight weeks is a reasonable enough time to be going public with it I guess, but now that it's public-er it seems quite rash and rushed. I think telling the broader world sometime next summer would be better.

But I don't get to be in charge of that anymore. Much the way I'm not in charge of much in this entire thing. And so, I'm out of control.

Have I mentioned I'm tired of whining about this yet? I am. I don't want to be a whiner. When will I stop, do you think? It's more fun when it's funny and Scott and Andy are designing a changing table that involves a visor and checker plate aluminum. THAT's fun.