Yes, that’s me! Like, yesterday. I’m seventeen weeks pregnant. Baby number 3 will making its way into the world this April. Can you believe that? Me neither.
I was going to tell you weeks ago but I didn’t. And I’m still trying to make sense of why. Of course, I know why I kept it quiet the first trimester. The loss of my pregnancy last summer was painful and made this good news feel heavier, more unsteady.
In my pregnancies with the boys I shared the news right away. Part of that was based on how sick I was with them, how intensely nausea upended my life. When you’re missing appointments and deadlines and throwing up in the most unseemly places for weeks at a time, it makes sense to tell people why.
This time around has been different. My nausea was constant but controllable in the first 15 weeks. I never felt like I couldn’t get out of my bed. I was able to get my kids to school and get (most) of my work done. Because of that, I didn’t have to tell the world; I didn’t have to explain myself.
After years of blogging (and a life of generally being an oversharer), I’ve begun to hold secrets whenever I can. Maybe part of that is maturity, maybe it’s wisdom. Either way, it felt right and almost holy to hold tight to my baby news.
Keeping my pregnancy close also felt like surrender in some ways. There is so little control we have in bringing babies into this world. Will our children be healthy? What will they look like? Girl or boy? Easy-going or demanding? The list goes on and on. Losing my pregnancy last June demanded I hold this carefully. God may be using my body to create this life, but I don’t get to have a say in the process. I have no choice but to surrender, to be grateful for every change in my body, every flutter of movement in me.
So even when I passed the twelve-week mark it was hard for me to believe that it was actually safe to share my news. Is that unhealthy? Wise? For better or for worse, I have learned about the frailty of bringing children into this world.
So yes, I’ve been afraid.
But I’ve also been more aware of the pain women carry with them every day on the interwebs. I am a mother of two healthy boys and I’m four months pregnant. I have plenty to be grateful for. Yet I can still tell you every woman online who has a baby due at the same time my miscarried pregnancy was due this winter. It has been hard to watch them grow.
Now, I’m not saying women shouldn’t share their beautiful, life-changing experiences online. Of course they should instagram pictures of their growing bellies! Of course they should write about their experiences! I just understand a tiny bit more how difficult it is to watch those stories unfold when yours in painful. For every woman sharing the news of her pregnancy online, there is another who has tried for years to get pregnant, who is in the process of In-Vitro, who has lost one or more pregnancies.
Those are heavy things to say on a post about my good news. (I know. Such a downer, Micha!)
But I feel the need to say it: All of life is grace. And how will we hold the grace we’ve been given? Living with gratitude also means living with awareness. It means recognizing the loss and frailty around us.
I want you to know I’m pregnant. I’m thrilled and I’m grateful and I’m still afraid.
And it’s okay to feel all those things at once. This is a beautiful and terrifying world and we believe in a God who loves us and comes close to the beauty and comes close to the terror and brings restoration.
So we’re celebrating around here! And choosing to celebrate is wise, right? Right.
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