Is this growth? Or narcissism?

In a state of elation and confusion, I posted not only yesterday's post, but a status update on facebook.

Worlds colliding a little bit.

My husband was a bit shocked that I did. "Aren't you waiting the 3 months?" Apparently not. A friend who has known me for over 30 years was also surprised I posted a blog about the pregnancy. 

They have good reason for shock. In 2004, I didn't even tell my sisters about my miscarriages. Or most of my friends. Eventually I did. It was after the third one. We were supposed to go to a family reunion out of state. We were going to be the only couple without children. I told my husband that there was no way I could face them and just to tell them everything. I didn't care anymore. I needed to escape.

Now, five years later, I'm writing about this pregnancy on the internet. Repeatedly. And I know a lot of people I have lunch with read this blog. Why this change?

Before this latest happening, a few months ago I was talking with a friend who is also going through fertility issues. She talked about not understanding why she was so reticent to talk to others about what she was going through. She really struggled with why she could not talk about it, and after much soul-searching, she concluded that it was because she felt shame.

Shame about infertility. Shame about miscarriages.

I still remember it because, I think, I felt the same shame.

The definition: painful emotion caused by a strong sense of guilt, embarrassment, unworthiness, or disgrace.

Yes, yes, yes and yes.

Huh.

Intellectually I know I "shouldn't" feel shame. In my heart, I don't want to feel shame, and I don't want others going through something similar to feel it either. But I  think I still might feel that way. A little bit, at least. Every thought that if it wasn't for me, Brody would have a sibling already, and Jeremy would have more children....I think those thoughts are based in shame.

And I think to try to decrease that feeling, I'm writing about it. A lot.

I hope this isn't narcissism, though. Definition: Person full of egoism and pride; One who shows extreme love and admiration for oneself. Dear God, I do not want to be that person.

Also,  I think it's time I was honest. For a long while I was different versions of myself with different people, and my whole real self with just a few. I think I should be my whole real self wherever, and whenever, I want to be. And my whole real self is pregnant, with a pretty high risk of miscarriage. Why not be that person? Granted, I don't reveal that to most of the people I work with, or strangers on the street.

I know a lot of you, I know everyone on facebook. Why not tell?

And let's face it, if this pregnancy ends, I'm going to need . . . . something, and probably in the form of some kind of support.

If I had appendicitis or broke my leg, I'd tell. So why not this? This which is more important than most anything, and has the potential to affect me for the rest of my life. . .

For the record, though, I feel incredibly off-balance trying to be my whole real self with every set of friends and acquaintances.