A photo journal comprised of my thoughts on motherhood and other life happenings, as well as some of professional work as a photographer. Southern California is home.
The other day we were playing in the front yard. Our neighbor was also outside with her young boy. The boys stared curiously at one another while the grown-ups made small talk. The small talk went something like this:
Neighbor: “My other son is 10 years old. I wish they were closer in age.”
Me: “Ya, it’s hard to return to the diaper stage once you’re so far beyond it”.
Neighbor: “Are you guys starting to think of having another one soon?”
Me: “Actually, I’m pregnant.”
I don’t know my neighbor’s name, hence me calling her “neighbor”. My mom doesn’t even know I’m pregnant yet. It seems like we need some elaborate-thought-out hoax to tell my parents. I guess that’s why it’s easier to tell complete strangers.
When did you spill the beans you were pregnant? Did you tell strangers or acquaintances before telling family?
Told my hairdresser—first person I told!