So, a couple of days ago, I wrote most of a post that I planned to put up last night. I won’t say it was a great post, but all things considered, I liked it. Unfortunately, amidst my new blog bumbling, I failed to manually save my post before leaving the WordPress iPhone app and lost it forever.

The post began, “Vin and I have a secret.” In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the best beginning anyway. I think coming from a woman of child-bearing age, a statement like that inevitably leads the mind of the reader or listener to one obvious conclusion. I always was one to show my hand too early, although I can’t help imagining a conversation that goes like this:

Me – Vin and I have a secret!
Other Person – OMG! You’re not…
Me – Yes, that’s right, we both have gonorrhoea!

That would be fun. (The conversation, not the gonorrhoea.) Better yet, I’ve always loved the idea of actually getting pregnant, but never telling anyone. Eventually, it would be so blindingly obvious that people would be unable to help themselves and would have to ask. Then I would pounce, with a well-rehearsed show of indignation; maybe a few bitter tears squeezed out. “Wow, I can’t even put on a couple of kilos without the body police stepping in to hassle me!” (Sob!) I’m too nice to ever actually do it, of course, but I’m not too nice to fantasise about it.

Hmmm… Last time I wrote this post it seemed far less rambly. Not to worry. The crux of the original post was that both Vin and I are horrible blurters. It’s not that we won’t keep your secrets. They’re in the vault. It’s just our own business that we seem to feel compelled to share with friends, family and disinterested, nervous-looking strangers.

As a consequence, I’ve realised that secrets don’t work for me. My recent blogging absence and continued struggle to re-engage with the blogs and bloggers that I love was triggered by some ‘things going on’ (nothing too awful) that I felt it unwise to share on the Internet. Thus silence ensued. Finally, I blurted it all out to a friend over a cup of tea. She nodded a little, sympathetically, and then I felt better able to move on. I realised as I wrote about this the first time that this is a well-trodden path for me.

So this time, I’d like to keep our secret from my tea drinking life for the shortest while, just because I don’t feel like having to make all those awkward, weirdly embarrassing announcements, fraught with other people’s opinions and (ew) feelings, so I’ll blurt it out on the Internet for the world to know instead. It’ll be nice to keep it just between us, at least until the incessant vomiting begins.

Also, I know from experience that blogging is the only chance I have of actually documenting my gonorrhoea  pregnancy in any way and I can’t help thinking, the third time around, when it’s neither a monumental surprise nor a battle hard fought, that that’s quite a nice idea too.

Oh, and just for the record, neither Vin nor myself actually have gonorrhoea. Really!