We told our Sunday School class (also lovingly known as the “Heretics”) today. I had been thinking about telling them for a few days now… they seemed like a safe group to share with for several reasons:

  1. They really, really love Bobby & me. These people are the age of our parents/grandparents. We’re by far the youngest whippersnappers & they are quite openly thrilled about having “young people” in their class.
  2. They’re very wise & respectful. When we asked them not to share our  news outside the room, they listened & understood.
  3. They’re past childbearing age. I know this seems like a strange one, but I have an almost overwhelming fear of being “that girl”… the girl who causes pain to someone else who’s struggling with infertility just by my impregnated existence.  I didn’t have to worry about being “that girl” today.

If you’ve been reading my ramblings for any length of time, you know that I have a complicated relationship with prayer. That hasn’t changed since Z4 came into existence. I don’t beg God to make Z4 stick, or to make him healthy, or to make him anything. I believe that Z4 already is what he is. I do sometimes find myself saying “please be healthy & alive,” but I don’t necessarily think anyone or anything is listening. It’s more of a plea to the universe at large than directed toward any particular power or being. I don’t believe in miraculous healings & such, although I know others do.

That being said, however, I do find a great amount of comfort in the knowledge that other people who love & care for us are thinking about &/or praying for our physical & emotional wellbeing. And I wanted to tell our little group of “Heretics” because I knew that they would really care — that whether things turn out good or not-so-good, they’ll provide a comforting & sensitive support system.

When it came to actually telling, though, I almost chickened out. I just don’t like saying it aloud… I feel strange & I hate the giddy way that people act when they know. I feel kind of like an attention whore. I don’t enjoy telling people — & from what I’ve gathered from a few pregnancy message boards I’ve joined, this is NOT normal. So this morning, I let the opportunity pass & our daily discussion was getting ready to begin when Bobby raised his hand & forced the issue.

So I told. I told that I’ve had 3 miscarriages & now I’m pregnant for the 4th time… & every face in the room lit up with joy. There was a collective laugh & a smattering of applause, & I was taken aback by their sincere joy in our news. Afterward, they came & hugged us & asked us to let them know the ultrasound results on Friday rather than waiting until Sunday morning. And it was so full of…. love. I’ve been so prickly for so long that I honestly didn’t even think it possible to receive that kind of caring (in real life) from people outside my tiny core group. It brought tears to my eyes & touched my cold, hard, prickly little heart. It was lovely.

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