Pregnancy Shouldn’t be a Secret

I came across this blog post/article in my Facebook feed this morning:

http://www.scarymommy.com/articles/a-miscarriage-isnt-any-easier-if-no-one-knows-about-it?section=news&u=bx0JraXp8A
I love Scary Mommy for all their awesome and cynical posts about motherhood. This post, however is a little different. While I have no idea who these people are, I feel like it doesn’t matter. Why do we, as a society, feel the need to keep our successes and struggles with pregnancy a secret?

A miscarriage or a fertility struggle is not something of which we should be ashamed. Yet, people get criticized for sharing the news too early, or they feel like they can’t be honest about the excitement, disappointment, fear, or whatever emotion they’re feeling about their family planning. 

Previously I decided to be open about my decision and efforts to try for a third baby. If I’m going to be honest, I am disappointed that this time around hasn’t been as easy as the previous two… And when I say easy, I mean I think about being pregnant and BAM!  This time around I am into cycle 4.

I am trying to be more open about trying to conceive. However, I still find myself saying “I’d like to have another,” rather than, “yes, we’re trying,” when someone asks if we want another child. I wouldn’t say that I’m happy with my difficulties in being honest and open… But I can start here, on this blog:

I am trying. So far I haven’t had any luck. In fact, this month my period came earlier than I expected and this worries me because of my family history of premature ovarian failure. 

So there you have it – all my open and honest worries about my failed attempts at pregnancy over the past 3 months. 

Dusky Sunlight

I sit on the veranda with the sun over my shoulder,  lazily sitting above the horizon, blanketing the street with its pre-dusk glow.  I watch my two boys play with glee on the driveway; first racing their plasma cars, then then their bikes, then their dump trucks. The older of the two, showing off to his brother, attempting to prove that he is better and more capable. The younger brother, with admiration and pride, showing time and again that his skill is rivalled.  From my seat in the sun I listen to their laughs, their giggles, their camaraderie, and I am proud to be the mother of such happy and loving boys.

I wonder how their lives will change, if their relationship with each other will differ, or how different their life paths will be if there were no longer only two. My thoughts shift to an awareness of what might be happening inside of me. If I counted right – if that ever so slight temperature increase this morning is real – then there may be the very beginnings of a new life forging its way forward inside my womb. Right now it is impossible to know – there can only be hope that I’ve done my best and tried my hardest to make it happen.

And now I wait.

I enjoy my beautiful boys as they are and I savour this moment that they are my only two children in this world. Two weeks feels like forever to wait for an answer, but it is such a short time when I imagine that it might be the end of just the two of them.