Lawnchair

One of the biggest questions we’ve had to answer so far is whether to tell people about the pregnancy. Given that this blog exists, you can see how we answered that question, but it is one of those first “I hope I don’t screw this up” decisions.

They say that if something is going to go wrong in the pregnancy, it is most likely to go wrong in the first trimester.* This leads some happy, expectant couples to decide not to tell anyone until they navigate that riskier first month. Now, people are entitled to their own opinion and there’s no wrong answer here, but... those people are wrong.

*Ed. Note – Who the heck are “they” anyway? Where do they get off? Is there some secret council somewhere that dispenses conventional wisdom until the water supply?**

**Yes, I’m bringing back this joke from my old blog. Deal with it. I like footnotes.

First off, it’s not like you’re going to jinx things. It is scientifically proven that the only thing you can jinx by talking about it is a no-hitter. The proper procedure is to refer to the no-hitter as something else, like “lawnchair”. It is perfectly acceptable to say “Honey, change the channel to the Rangers game because Colby Lewis has a lawnchair through seven innings!” OK, Colby Lewis is not going to throw a no-hitter because he’s too inconsistent and has a tendency to leave the ball over the plate as he gets tired, but it’s just a hypothetical.

So, if you’re nervous about the whole jinx thing, just say that your wife has a lawnchair. We’ll know what you mean, and the Jinx Gods have been appeased. If it works in baseball, it’ll work in real life. Now, I realize this could cause problems if you and the missus actually purchased a lawnchair, which would lead to all sorts of confusion. If you are trying to get pregnant and also plan on purchasing patio furniture, perhaps you should use a different code word. The principle is still sound.

More importantly, it’s not like you’re going to be less sad if something awful happens. However, it’s a lot more joyous to tell people right now, and share in good news. It can be best expressed in two separate mathematical formulas:

Joy derived from telling people about pregnancy > Joy derived from not telling people

If something hideous and awful happens, then:
Sadness from telling people = Sadness from not telling people.

So why rob yourself of the joy? Telling the world increases the joy derived, at no risk of increased sadness. You only get to live life once, and constantly being afraid of things that might happen is just a way to prevent yourself from immersing yourself in the things that actually are happening.

And what’s happening right now is awesome. The Posette has a lawnchair through one inning, and is there any better feeling than going to a ballgame and silently keeping track of the potential no-hitter?*

*Ed. Note – Pregnancy is nine months. Baseball games are nine innings. Coincidence? Well, yeah. But methinks this may not be the last time we see this analogy. I’m also dreading the fact that the LP (Little Poseur) is probably going to be a Rangers fan. Rooting for the out-of-market (and dreadful) Orioles is going to be a tough sell, especially with the Posette and the Texas grandparents certainly promoting the local team and blocking any Orioles Indoctrination efforts I may try. But the LP will be the only Texan who knows, that’s right KNOWS, that Jim Palmer was a better pitcher than Nolan Ryan.

There’s a lot of joy in the world if we just let ourselves experience it. Getting the news that we’re going to have a Little Poseur was one of the few moments in life that was pure, perfect joy. Now, why wouldn’t I want to share that with everyone?