i'm not telling my mother

Last time we tell our families immediately and many of our friends shortly thereafter. It is such an innocent, celebratory, exciting time. But everything is different this time around, and we are being very selective about who we are telling and when.

We have decided to not tell my mother. Before I go further with this story, please know that I do love my mother dearly. But yes, she can make me crazy.

Today my husband is away again and I spend my morning writing report cards, cleaning the house from top to bottom and taking a long walk. Then it's off to the grocery store. I am still in my sweats (which I wore to bed last night,) my hair is pulled back in a ponytail and I am wearing no make-up. For most people, bumping into your mother under these circumstances would not be a big deal. But you don't know my mother.

I bump into her in the grocery store parking lot. She is with her friend. Before I know it, my grocery plans are tossed out and the three of us are driving to Linens 'N Things to go shopping together. Oh joy. Once in the store my mother looks me up and down and says, "What happened to your face?"

Thanks, mom. Like I hadn't noticed. I calmly tell her that my breakout is from the hormones caused by my miscarriage. She doesn't seem to believe me. Then she decides that this conversation is now open to anything. So she asks, "Are you trying again yet?"

You have got to be kidding me. What business is it of hers? (or her friend's?!?!?!!) Yes, I know I am pregnant again already but what if I wasn't? I feel the need to defend that girl, who just a few days ago, had no idea how long it would take. The girl who successfully dodged this question several times by telling her mother the doctor's orders were to wait a few months. The girl who feels nakedly vulnerable at any mention of pregnancy. But now a few months are over and the question is being spit right back into her face.

Are you trying again yet?

I cringe at the thought of my mother desperately wanting back what she has lost. Why can't she respect what I have lost?

If I tell her now, she will worry and forget that I am worrying too. She will call me every day and demand a health report, not understanding that the stress of giving these daily reports will actually be detrimental to my health. She will fill her calendar with my doctor's appointments, and my cell phone will start ringing before I even have my pants back on. She will tell me to rest more, exercise less, eat more, work less, etc. etc. She will stalk me to no end. She will tell the world even when I ask her not to and then vent to them daily how worried she is about me.

Of course I know she will do all of these things out of love. But it doesn't change the fact that this will drive me absolutely crazy.

So I revert to age fifteen and snap at her, "I don't want to talk about it."

Because I really don't. And the truth is, I don't know if I will for a very very long time.