Show & Tell
We told the kids a few days ago. It was getting hard to keep it from them--they wondered why I was always sick, why I stopped making dinner, why I couldn't pick them up, and why--why--is your belly so big, Mommy?
Olivia cried bitterly for half an hour upon learning that it was not to be a little sister, but rebounded with a cheerful conclusion that I "will have this baby boy and then another girl afterward." I have yet to fully disabuse her of the unfounded hope as it's currently helping to keep the peace, but if I am certain of one thing, it is this: Whatever the outcome, we are done. This is absolutely, unquestionably my last pregnancy. Done.
I look about five months' pregnant here at the 14-week mark. (Way to keep your shape, abdominals.) Which means I've had to come clean to everyone at work. Until recently, several of them apparently thought I was on chemo due to all the puking and my lovely gray-green hue. (Ah, just dawned on me that this explains the concerned looks and the recurring advice that I should "go home early" to "spend time with the family.")
Aside from the hyperemesis, this pregnancy seems to be going well. Had a scare on Friday--minor contractions that lasted about two hours but went away after lying down and drinking a week's worth of water. No return, no bleeding. No movement yet, either, which makes me vaguely nervous, but I know it's still pretty early and the position of the placenta can affect things.
Hoping for reassurance at tomorrow's OB appointment. I actively dread the thought of having to un-tell all of these virtual strangers, much less the kids.