The list of people we’ve told about Powerball is pretty small: my parents, 2/4 of my siblings, our closest friends, a couple of coworkers, relevant medical professionals, you.
This list shouldn’t be confused with the list of people who know about Powerball, however. Somehow that list has spilled outwards, further and further away from our control. Thanks to loose lipped friends and family members (I know who you are), the list of people who know about Powerball now includes: my aunt, my other aunt, an unknown quantity of cousins, a nosy coworker, several Russians, approximately 43% of our acquaintances, my real estate agent, and my real estate agent’s assistant.
Guys, my real estate agent’s assistant knows about Powerball and Sea’s mother doesn’t.
I’m torn between appreciation for the enthusiasm surrounding Powerball and frustration that we haven’t had a say in what gets said. I’m sad to have not seen/heard the reactions of the people I love, the moments replaced with congratulatory e-mails with hints of hurt feelings that all begin, “I heard the news.”
It’s making me not want to announce at all, really. To issue a retraction, maybe (“What we assumed was a fetus was, in fact, an alien invader. We apologize for the confusion.”) To keep Powerball off Facebook until s/he graduates from fetus to person, or maybe even from small person to legal adult. To tighten our grip on whatever bit of control we still have.
Still, we had better tell Sea’s mother before the real estate agent’s assistant lets her know.
Powerball update: I’m 15 weeks pregnant. Powerball is now the size of a canary, and flutters in a convincingly birdlike way from time to time. I’m denying the fact that my shirts are too short and my pants are too tight. I’ve started a (secret) Facebook group for queer folks expecting babies in the fall. If you want to join, send me an e-mail at email@example.com.