Maybe it's a testament to how good a job I'd been doing with the whole one-step-at-a-time philosophy. But when we told the family, it never even occurred to us that the family would then proceed to tell other folks. I was still so nervous; it had only been a little over a week. The night before my second beta, worry writhed its way in a dance marathon through my brain before I finally nodded off to a restless sleep, sometime past 3 in the morning, four hours of watching the numbers on my bedside clock advance ever more slowly forward. I panicked when something was weird. (What was that twinge?!?) I angsted when I didn't feel anything at all. (Why aren't I nauseous?) I couldn't bring myself to say the words "I'm" and "pregnant" together out loud, for fear that doing so might chase the good news away.

So when we turned up at the boy's cousin's wedding, I was in no way prepared. Congratulations! We heard the great news! We're so excited for you! As we made the rounds with aunts and uncles and cousins and second cousins, the well-wishers just kept on coming, a crush of squeals and hugs and big wide grins. And this was so sweet, and so lovely, that everyone was so obviously thrilled for us. But I? Was totally. Freaked. Out.

Everyone knows! I whispered to the boy. Everyone knows! The boy hugged me closer as we made our way to the next beaming set of relatives. I took a deep breath, put on my smile, got ready for another round of well-meaning congrats.

How are you feeling? Everyone wanted to know. And the first few times, all I could do was smile and nod and shrug my shoulders, say, We're so happy, so excited, it's wonderful. Which is true. But the thing is, that's only part of it. When it's taken all this to get to this still-precarious point, it's hard to suddenly stop worrying; experience has taught you too well that bad things can and do happen, most of all when you let your guard down. I'm not sure most of the boy's family fully gets this; they've always struck me as preternaturally fertile, new babies popping up here and there and everywhere. They're fortunate, and I don't begrudge them this fecundity. But when they ask me how I'm feeling, I'm not sure they have a clue just how loaded a question this is.

So when the boy's cousin J's wife threw her own well wishes our way, I wasn't expecting her to pause to add: Oh no, was that all right? Is this too much? Are you okay? And as it turned out, that was all I really needed; acknowledgment that I might be nervous, permission to let my crazy nagging worries out.

No, no, I told her truthfully, We're so excited. But yeah, it's hard.

And it is, but maybe that's not such a bad thing either. Because with every test that comes back with good numbers assuring me that everything actually is progressing exactly the way it should, I'm more aware than ever: I'm so, so lucky. Life can be amazing and lovely and good.