Why I had to tell you now

I wrote about 12 blog posts and saved them, carefully selecting "Return to list of posts" instead of "Publish post," afraid I'd tell you all and then jinx the whole thing. That I'd go to the doctor and they'd do the blood tests and say "Well, the good news is, you're not anemic. The bad thing is, you're not pregnant."

But no.

I am. And it's still early. The good news is, I'm pregnant, I'm not anemic, I don't have hepatitis, HIV, Rubella or anything else they took four vials of blood for at my nurse's visit in mid-October, two days after our one-year wedding anniversary.

I won't feel OK about being pregnant until Dec. 4 when I enter the second trimester of my pregnancy. My pregnancy. It sounds weird to say it, and I walk around all day thinking "I'm pregnant, and you don't know. She doesn't know. She doesn't know, either. I'm having a baby. I'll have a baby this time next year. This is my last October as a woman without a child."

But I'm not going to lie. Dooce had a missed miscarriage right after Dave and I told our immediate families and I told my bosses, and I thought I didn't have the nerve to share it yet beyond that because I didn't know if I would be strong enough to, like Dooce, blog about it, should anything -- God forbid -- happen with my pregnancy.

Of course, I went through how many weeks of not having anything to blog about because I wasn't doing anything but being pregnant, and I realized I missed being able to talk about real life.

But what can you do? I kept my mouth shut. And DANG it was hard.

Written Nov. 9