Telling the Fam

So around 2:30 yesterday I had the big speakerphone call with my family, and I told them.  The only one who knew I was even considering this is my sister, so it was completely out of left field.  In attendance were: my sister (half sister), her husband, her dad, his wife, their daughter, the daughter’s husband and son, my uncle (widow to my aunt), and my aunt’s two sons, my cousins. 

As expected the connection was very bad – I kept getting hung up on and couldn’t really hear anything except snatches of sentences (you know how speakerphones are; when you talk it cuts off the other side so you can’t hear if people talk at the same time).  But it went great.  After a little preamble about how much I love everyone and how my aunt’s death had a life-changing impact on me, I told them I’m eight weeks pregnant.  I heard sort of an odd muffled cacophony of screams.  Then came the inevitable question, “So, who’s the daddy?” to which I responded, “Donor number 6209.”  They asked a lot about him, and I wasn’t really prepared to answer…as you know I haven’t given much thought to the donor; all I know offhand that I can remember from reading his “long profile” back in November is about the height, weight, red hair, green eyes, and half Eastern European Jewish background, oh, and his music degree.  It occurred to me that before my genetic counseling appointment Tuesday I really should get a copy of his whole profile so that half of the question can be answered – they will want to know, especially because he’s Jewish, if he could be a carrier of various congenital disorders that go along with his heritage (and I know he’s not, that’s why I chose a Jewish donor because they test extensively for all these things – but they’ll want confirmation I’m sure).  My uncle asked what family name I was going to give the child.  Ummm…mine?  I thought that was funny.  He also said he’d be in touch with my mother in a couple of days (I didn’t know they talked) and did he want me to tell her…?  I said an emphatic NO, that I want to do it, and I hope he heard me!  It would be just AWFUL if he told my mother – a, because it would deprive me of that experience that I’m very much looking forward to, and b, she would be upset thinking I wasn’t going to tell her and would assume I’m being mean spirited, which is so not at all the case.  I would just rather tell her later when I have the sex of the baby and know everything is ok. 

They seemed very touched that I wanted to name the baby after our aunt if it’s a girl, which was nice. 

So, the cat’s out of the bag.  It was a lovely experience, even though I’m sad I couldn’t do it in person and see everyone’s reactions, hey.  You take what you can get. 

Now I feel like I can call people and check in more; since I’ve been keeping this a secret it’s been hard to talk to people because I feel like I’m always lying, which is awful.  Can’t wait to spill the beans to some friends next.  But first I have to have confirmation of the baby’s existence – got to have that heartbeat/ultrasound.  And even then maybe wait a week or two just for good measure.  The WTE “March 2012 babies” boards are CHALK FULL of women who lose their babies between eight and twelve weeks, which is horrifying to me (I’ve stopped reading those posts – way too upsetting).  I try to remind myself that many of these women have signs – bleeding, loss of symptoms, or even just a feeling that something isn’t right.  Most had spotting from the beginning, were told everything was ok, and then found out at ten weeks or whatever that the baby had stopped growing at six weeks.  I seriously doubt anything like that is going on around here.  I mean, it’s possible; anything is.  I just doubt it.