Rumors and Secrets

Last night I went to a dinner party thrown by my friend, Andi.  One of the ladies there – more of an acquaintance than a friend – is pregnant, but I wasn’t expecting it to come up because as far as I knew her pregnancy was still a secret from everyone who would be there, including me.  I’d probably do a little quiet seething, but wouldn’t have to be happy for her or talk about baby stuff. (Disclaimer: Of course I’m happy for her.  The bitch.)

(Side note:  Isn’t it funny how pregnancy news gets out?  The pregnant person tells a few of their very close friends, and as time goes by those friends find it harder and harder to keep the secret.  Eventually they just have to tell, but of course they’re not going to ruin the pregnant person’s “announcement.”  So they pick one of their own close friends who is also an acquaintance of the preggo – someone who won’t ask “who?” when you tell them “Laura’s pregnant!” but doesn’t really care.  By the time the pregnant person gets around to officially announcing their pregnancy, a whole bunch of random people know.)

So I’m riding the elevator up to this party with another friend, who knows that we’re trying but not any of the details.  The party is on the ninth floor, and we’re probably around floor three when my friend says, “Oh, you probably saw on Facebook today, but Laura is officially pregnant. It’s twins.”

In fact, I had not seen this particular status update.

By this time we’re on about floor six, leaving me three floors to mentally prepare.  Thank GOD for slow elevators and leaked secrets; if I hadn't already known Laura was pregnant, I might have handed over my side dish and turned around and walked home.

We get into the party and I yell “Congratulations!” in Laura’s direction on my way into the kitchen, where I pour myself a double-sized glass of wine in honor of her double delivery.

Honestly, though, it wasn’t all that bad; most of my friends are still single and no one at the party has kids, so it’s not like there was a lot of story swapping and advice sharing going on.  Beyond “How are you feeling?” “When are you due?” and “Are you going to find out the sex?,” we childless people don’t really have any idea what we’re allowed to ask a pregnant person.   Soon enough the conversation turned to blow jobs, Pinterest, and the people who weren’t there… you know, the holy trinity of girls night talk.

BUT WAIT – there’s a twist!

After the party I stayed behind to drink a final glass (i.e. a few final glasses) of wine with Andi.

“So Laura’s having twins. That’s crazy,” I say, because I like to poke at my own open wounds.

“Yeah.  I heard she had fertility treatments; that’s why it’s twins.”

I light up – I’m not alone!  Suddenly I want Laura, who I’ve never had much in common with, be my new best friend. What did she do?  What clinic did she use?  Did she like them? How many cycles did it take?

“But I’m not supposed to know that. Don’t tell anyone,” Andi finishes.

Oh, right.  Like everything else related to fertility, it’s a secret.

It seems insane that we could share this huge, life-altering thing, yet it’s completely taboo to talk about.  And it's not only her fault; it's not like I'm talking, either.  This was the perfect opportunity to tell Andi what is going on, and what did I say? Nothing.  If I talked about it openly would people like Laura come forward and share their stories with me?

As much as I hate to admit it when Henry is right,  this is a point in his column in the whole “to tell or not” argument.