According to my high risk nurse, I am out of the first trimester. Baby still looks good, growing the way he should be so far. I told myself that after this appointment I would start telling people. I think I have changed my mind. I hate to sound so superstitious, but I can't shake the feeling that once I speak it, at the next appointment my baby will be dead. I am going to have to figure this out somehow, after all, I can't hide it forever.
On that note, something else interesting happened to me this week. I got "outed" at work. One of the women I work with, one whom I get along with, but is not the kind of person I would confide in, asked me in a roundabout way. I wish I could remember her exact words, but she phrased it in such a way to let me that she was asking, but if I didn't want to tell her, I didn't have to. I was so curious, what made her think so? I asked, she said my stomach looked different. Now I am obsessed with looking at my stomach. I have had quite a belly since giving birth to M, so I guess I don't really see it. Anyway, after a moment of indecision, I decided to go ahead and tell her. For some reason, which I still can't explain, I then felt the need to tell her why I was waiting, and why I didn't seem excited, so I told her I had a miscarriage after I lost my son. Not very many people know that. I made her cry. After that news, she got teary, then wished me the best, said she would hope everything went well, and she wouldn't tell anyone. I was so surprised. This isn't a person you would think is very tuned in to the sensitive side of life. She is gruff and direct almost too much so for my taste. It's interesting, all the sides we get to see of people because of our losses, either bad or good.