I know that our secret is safe with him. He’s not telling anyone, not unless his limited vocabulary of “Train!”, “Fish!”, and “Snack!” can somehow relay the message. I’m pretty sure we are safe. And so I find myself here and there bending down to whisper into his toddler ear, “You’re going to be a big brother!” He giggles and runs off to play. At the same time God is whispering into my own heart, “You’re going to be a mama again.” His words need time to soften the edges of my heart against this shock.