My twin sister's heartbeat and my own were in such sync, I wasn't expected. There were no ultrasounds and Mom wasn't awake for the ordeal. I've been told when she came to and found herself responsible for TWO babies, she cried. My grandmother screamed for joy. My father received word over radio in Vietnam and had to ask twice if the man said "daughters" plural.
I can't really blame being hidden in the womb for how the next decades played out, but it does seem conspicuous. If I sense disappointing someone--I run for cover. I play dumb or do my best to keep the uncomfortable subject from surfacing. Hiding is a destructive relationship killer.
Truth is always better. Though not always fun.
It's terrifying. Like when your stomach lurches because you know IT is close enough to find you. After awhile you start longing to be found so you can crawl out of your cramped hiding spot. When IT eventually finds you there's a sense of relief; you're free to laugh and help search for others.
I hope I won't always be good at hiding. I think I'd like to be IT.