Week 5: The dilemma of going public

Day 29.

I woke up this morning feeling fine, but I’m currently wiped a mere 2 hours later. Dizzy when I stand too much, sleepy as all Hell, and my poor husband just had to put up with me barking because I got all confused on him. Blah. And I’m thinking we’ll need to install an extra bathroom just for me, because it’s currently my favorite room in the house. My mom used to call me Superbladder. Those times are no more.

In good news, no morning sickness yet (not that I should really expect it this early). I’d say this was a lucky thing – most people told me how lucky I was last time – but given my background level of fear about things, I might almost welcome that as a concrete sign. Women who have morning sickness are apparently less likely to miscarry. Of course, I say that I’d welcome it now. If I spend the next 8+ weeks with my head in the toilet, I’m sure I’ll curse myself for such a wish. I’m sure all of my friends who had horrid first trimesters are laughing at me at this very moment. Or they would be, if I were posting this publicly right now, which I’m not .

Posting publicly, by the way, has its own set of dilemmas. You see, there’s an element in our lives – consisting of a few people, some family, some not – which is not very good at dealing with things that aren’t completely within their control and, more importantly, direction. These things unfortunately often include me, and if you know me, there’s nothing more likely to annoy the living crap out of me than someone trying to control me. Especially when I have no reason to believe that the would-be controller is any better at taking care of his or her own life than I am at taking care of mine – and it so happens that in general, the opposite is usually the case.

Now, I can generally limit my visibility to these folks because none of them lives closer than 1,000 miles away, but sometimes… sometimes something happens that is Big News ™. A wedding. A change in career. A move. And at that time, the magic warning lights go off in their heads. The sequence looks something like this:

DANGER: Krista is about to do Something Big ™. You must immediately step in and take control of the situation before something goes wrong and she screws it up due to a total lack of competence in taking care of Adult Things ™ on her own. ONLY YOU CAN SAVE THE DAY.

INITIATING SAVIOR SEQUENCE:

• ACTIVATE KNOW-IT-ALL ADVICE MODE.
• BEGIN COMPLETE FREAK OUT. PREPARE VOCAL CORDS FOR POSSIBLE SHOUT-A-THON.
• PREPARE ANGRY RETORT AND APOCALYPTIC PREDICTION SYSTEMS FOR THE UNLIKELY POSSIBILITY OF REJECTION OF SAGE ADVICE/WORRY/COMMANDS.
• SEED ENTITLEMENT SYSTEMS.
  
• START GUILT INDUCTION SEQUENCE.
• READY AUXILIARY GUILT ENTITIES FOR OPTIONAL ADDITIONAL PRESSURE.
• BEGIN DIRECTIVE CONTROL MEASURES.

And it goes on from there.

No matter how many times I’ve survived such unwelcome and unnecessary freak-outs, there is still nothing in the world that pisses me off more. That said, these things happen. I can’t control other people’s reactions, nor do I really care to have that responsibility.

But let’s just say that I can imagine that the command sequence for something like the arrival of a child will be like nothing I’ve ever experienced, and I do not mean this in a good way. I mean this in a “the arrival of a nuclear holocaust will be like nothing I’ve ever experienced” way.

Just wait until I mention that we have already decided who will be at the birth, and that we really only want those people there. Or worse, that we won’t be having faraway friends and extended family come visit us for the first several weeks because we want some low-stress time to get to know the baby and get settled. Oh yes, this is going to be fun. I feel guilty already. But I’m sticking to my guns on this one, this time. Because it’s our freaking life, damnit.

Anyway, because of all this, there has been some discussion – not entirely in jest – of not informing anyone near these folks of the pregnancy until, oh, after the birth. Or possibly the child’s 18th birthday. Or maybe the next time Halley’s Comet visits Earth.

This fantasy is, however, pretty unrealistic. And it made the idea of publicly posting about the whole thing really messy. So I’ll give in, and we’ll inform folks at 8 weeks if I can’t wait any longer (or 12 weeks if I decide to be smart about it), almost certainly accompanied by the certain-to-be-ignored strong and irritated request that they not nag me/advise me/tell me how worried they are/command me/demand from me/etc about the whole thing.

I have to say, though, I was seriously tempted to just not say anything at all about it to those I know will make my life Hell, publish the pregnancy posts anyway, and to Hell with the consequences when someone tells them that, hey, there’s this blog out there, and Krista’s pregnant – did she not tell you?

I’m not that wicked, yet, but it was a close thing.

(You may wonder why I’d publish this post if I’m worried about such responses, but in all fairness, none of the involved would be surprised that I feel this way – they just don’t respect my right to feel this way. Their problem. My pregnancy. )