When you, random stranger, ask me, “is this your first?” and I answer “sort of…”  I”m not being “cheeky,”  I’m sparing us both the story by not answering what I really want to say.  What would your reaction be if I said, “no, I should be buying 2 little tiger costumes for 2 year old twin boys but they died.”  If you continue to push me into telling you about my boys by saying, “what’s that supposed to mean?”  or flippantly say, “oh okay, well, whatever!”  I will tell you about my boys.  I will tell you about how I’ve never been this pregnant before, how I grieve for them even though they were so little when they left us or how every second that Baby Girl doesn’t kick, my heart stops, just for a minute.  How I’m so grateful to Baby Girl when she kicks me so hard I can see it on my belly.  Or how I bargain with the anxiety and ration the pills so I don’t take more than I should because let’s face it, I could take a 1/2 of one daily until delivery.  But I’m trying.  I’m trying and so instead of unloading on this person when they ask, “is this your first?”, I say, “well, sort of – we’ve been waiting for Baby Girl for a long time…”

But push me and you should consider yourself warned.

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