Sharing
It’s been an interesting process for us over the past six months or so, figuring out how to navigate sharing the news of our current pregnancy. The news of getting pregnant, firstly, and then various other milestones as they have occurred.
It’s been tricky trying to balance the desire to connect with others in our lives and invite them in to share our joys, coupled with the instinct towards protecting privacy and a vague dread fueled by superstition.
I think the answer is that my main secret is out – the fact that, yeah, there’s a kid cooking in there. Sharing that news was a considerable hurdle, deeply connected to the fact that we suffered a previous loss. As the anniversary of that loss approaches, I realize more and more how much it has affected this pregnancy, and especially how much I hesitated to tell anyone, or celebrate the early milestones too fervently.
The first time around, I think we were already telling the people closest to us before we’d even been to the doctor – kind of amazing to think about how naive that was, how much we assumed. We were thrilled, we were excited, we were eager for every new milestone, and it just didn’t occur to us that anything could go wrong. The fact that we had a six week scan showing a heartbeat seemed to confirm that, but then I miscarried about a week later.
The pregnancy was there, and then it wasn’t.
The only way I could make sense of it was to learn about it, so I started reading books about miscarriage and joining online support groups. I had a very simple story to share – we were pregnant, then we weren’t – and it was so easy to elaborate to those who already knew all about it due to their own experiences, yet so difficult to explain to anyone else.
The first trimester for this pregnancy (which was happening during what would have been my third trimester and birth, if the original pregnancy had continued) was a difficult, secretive time for me, since I kept wondering if we would experience another loss. We weren’t at any particular risk, but I knew what the statistics were, and I also knew what it was like to feel that loss.
The idea of anyone finding out that I was pregnant when it was “too soon” or before it was “safe,” felt threatening to me, so I was vigilant about NOT showing or appearing “suspicious” as much as possible.
The first trimester screen was the turning point. We were past the 12 week mark, and we’d gotten a scan where the fetus looked more human than alien, so I began to feel that it would be “okay” for people to know. I wasn’t announcing it far and wide, but I wasn’t going to fudge the truth if asked.
The need to be secretive dissipated further as we got two more scans (at 16 and 20 weeks) that showed good development. We are hovering on the edge of viability right now, just about to enter the third trimester, and one of my big fears is going into preterm labor. I don’t want to discuss the baby very much, out of some admittedly irrational fear that I’m going to jinx something, or bring the baby here too soon. My students especially like to ask me, “How’s the baby doing?” and inwardly I always cringe, though I appreciate the sentiment behind the questions.
The truth is, it’s hard to know how the baby is doing (though it just kicked to let me know that just now, it’s doing fine, thanks), and I am still feeling like it’s a fragile presence, not quite of this world yet. Being pregnant is fundamentally mysterious, and I sort of like to keep it that way. But then again, I guess some mysteries are meant to be shared.
Lisa is an elementary school teacher, working with students with special needs for the past 15 years. Her first child is due on June 13, 2013. You can read more about her pregnancy journey on her blog, Baby Steps.
