We were trying to wait as long as possible to tell people, but the secret was getting increasingly difficult to keep. For one thing, I have a roll of fat on my stomach (shudder) that I can no longer hold in, and I would rather have people know I’m pregnant than think I’ve been eating too much candy (which is actually a little true, too). In fact, Chelsea Martin, my sister-in-law’s sister, thought I must be pregnant when she saw me last week. (She doesn’t know that I know that she said I have a “pooch,” which I do, and I’ll just take it as a compliment that she knew that was in no way normal for me.)
It’s also a little hard to explain to people you are sharing a condo with why you’re begging off on normal activities, and why your husband willingly fetches you food at every request. Or to members of the ward why you’d rather not march in a parade with your children in 100 degree weather. Or just generally, why both you and your home look like (for lack of a better word) crap.
So, we finally broke down and told our children this week (I’m twelve weeks along). I thought it was a little dense of the older ones not to have guessed by now, since I’ve been complaining of not feeling well for a good six weeks. Apparently no one had ever explained to Sam (9) that pregnancy brings nausea and fatigue (he didn’t remember that from two years ago?). Once we told the kids, we knew they’d tell everyone, and they have started to do just that. Except for Jon, who I invited to break the news to his Aunt Holly and Uncle Chris the other day. “Nah, why don’t we just let them be surprised?” Apparently no one had ever explained to Jon (4) that it’s pretty hard to keep a pregnancy a surprise up until the baby is actually born.
To answer the obvious question, yes, we did this on purpose. Having a fifth baby seems to be very shocking to people these days. I have a theory that four is the new eight — remember all of those Mormon families when we were kids that had 7-8-9 kids? Pretty much every faithful Mormon couple I know now is stopping at four. Going to five seems like a political statement or something. My sister Kathryn, also pregnant with #5, says people where she lives don’t hesitate to ask her if it was an accident — they can’t imagine why anyone would do such a thing on purpose!
A few other questions you might have… the official due date is February 8; we haven’t had an ultrasound, but have heard a good strong heartbeat; we will find out what the gender is — probably in six to eight weeks; the boys are of mixed opinions — some want another boy for their team, others agree that this family could use another girl. I would love for Mary to have a sister, but am not getting my hopes up. There are 13 natural-born grandchildren on my side (counting Kathryn’s unborn boy), and only three are girls. On Matt’s side, there are 12 grandchildren (counting Robin’s unborn boy) and only four are girls. For some reason, we are exceptionally good at producing boys. I’ll just assume we’re having another one unless the sonographer tells me differently.
As for why I keep doing this (I know my dad thinks I’m batty, and I have had a few nauseated moments when I can’t remember), it’s because of sweet moments like this:
Is this the last one? I don’t know and I really wish people would stop asking me that question! So there, now none of you will!