For once in my life, I appear to be somewhat normal. At least in comparison to those worth comparing myself to.
Ambivalence about pregnancy? Check. Ambivalence over telling people? Check. Trying to figure out who to tell what? Check. Guilt over the twins? Check. Fear of how we’re going to do this? Double check.
I’ve also started showing. I’ve been, um, snug in the waist for several weeks now, and bought my first pair of stretchy-waist jeans a while ago, but with the right shirt, I didn’t look all that different from my former non-skinny self. Maybe even less-skinny than usual, but not definitively pregnant. But in the past week, I think I’ve ‘popped’ (or whatever people call it - though not into a cute little ‘bump’). I’m still not huge or anything (though the phlebotomoist who drew my blood the other day* said “13 weeks? You’re just 13 weeks? Are you sure?” and when I told her it was twins, she said “Oh, that explains why you’re so big.” Hmmm.
Here’s the thing: I’m glad to be showing. It makes it a bit more real -- believable -- tangible. It also makes it significantly more public. I told my boss a couple of weeks ago, because I thought that was necessary. I’ve let the news trickle out bit by bit at school and work. (Apparently not slowly enough, since when J met my work colleagues at an event last week, every one said something to the effect of “Nice to meet you - and congratulations!” which I think he found a bit disconcerting.) And my mom was a bit hurt since I had made her promise not to tell anyone, and just released her a few days ago. (My dad took the release much more as I’d hoped - he’s glad not to have to keep it a secret, but he’s not going out of his way to tell people. When it comes up, or seems like the right moment, I’m sure he’ll tell my sibs and my uncle and whomever else. And that’s fine. Plus, we had a rather bizarre conversation about how far along I am, and why they count based on LMP instead of conception, and so how far am I really. It was kinda cute.)
Point being, the secret is slowly trickling out into the world. Or, if I’m in a cab with my MIL (we’re in Vegas with the in-laws this weekend - which is its own kind of fun), it’s streaming out to strangers right and left. But whatever.
In other news, on Thursday night my right boob started leaking clear fluid. I know it’s normal, but damn was it weird.
* One of my perinatologists - I have two because we’re deciding between two clinics still - ordered the full panel of bloodwork for clotting disorders. His reasoning is that I’ve been on baby aspirin and things have been fine, and it would be better to find out if that’s because it’s helping something clotting-related BEFORE I go off it. It’s a good rationale, and in theory the tests will be covered now in a way they would not have been had the RE ordered them before. So I guess that’s good. I have a long post pending on how to pick a doctor and a clinic (a strange revisitation of my debate about fertility clinics, in some ways) but that will have to wait for another day, as I have a room service breakfast to order to use the last of the hotel credit I earned by pouting about how long it was taking the front desk to fix a basic problem. I hate to whine, but, well, I guess not when it gets me free room service, right?