My parents don't know we're planning on a baby.
I see my mom and dad every Sunday for dinner and e-mail them all through the week. I know every time my mom buys a pair of shoes and whether she paid full price, and I know about my dad's new clarinet accessory, and they know what my planned guest-room decor concept is. They do not know that I want the guest room complete so that we can have family and friends visit after the baby is born; Mom doesn't know that I expect her to be sleeping in there a lot when I become convinced Baby has an earache.
It's strange not to tell them, but it's one of the few situations where I feel they'll doubt my judgment. Mom felt I moved in with Heather too soon, and the biggest stumbling block was the foot I put in my mouth by saying that Heather had been planning for a few years to get pregnant after her 35th birthday, less than six months after I moved in. When I settled on moving, I assured Mom that Heather and I had agreed to wait on the baby, but I'm not sure she felt better. A year after that conversation, I'm afraid that she'll still think it's too soon, and I don't know how long to keep my midwife and speculum adventures away from her.
My sister knows. My friends know. Heather's friends and family know, and now there's a blog. But telling my mom that I think I'm ready to be a mom risks her saying she thinks I'm not.