TW: If reading about pregnancy is not supportive for you, skip this post. I’ve been there.
Hi friends,
Well, here we are. Nearly 5 months pregnant. I could cry typing the words. Actually I am crying. Wow, these eyes just welled right up. I’ve been unsure how to share and what to share and when to share, but as I sit down to write I am in trust that the words will come, they will be imperfect - as writing always is - and yet whatever comes through will be enough.
I have been struggling to sit down and write. Maybe you’ve noticed. And sure there was the first trimester nausea that hasn’t completely settled, and the new job, and figuring out how to care for my kids and myself through some gnarly symptoms that I expected but still knocked me off my feet. But when I don’t write, really it’s because I don’t do it…despite the incessant thinking about doing it! Anyway, you get the point.
So, pregnancy. My fifth pregnancy in 3.5 years. My third baby in 4. It’s been a ride, and I’ve written a lot about navigating the grief of consecutive miscarriages here if you’d like to read. Thank you for holding space for me, it has been a salve to share with you all - my little audience of friends, family, and strangers. As it turns out I’ve been writing here for almost a year, and though the last few months I’ve fallen off, it’s miraculous to see and feel how quickly a year goes and how the big daunting task of starting a consistent writing practice can become habitual, something you crave more and fear less every time you do it. It’s a reminder to me, as I sit down today despite the heavy resistance, that I started from scratch once, and it wasn’t so bad. If I did that, I can start again today. Let it be a reminder that consistency holds an imperceptible magic.
Anyway, pregnancy always surprises me in the potent lessons it delivers. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, it is the act of bringing new life into the world. Absolutely ordinary and completely extraordinary all at once.
Wow, have I been wanting to tell you!! When I got pregnant for the first, second, and even third time I could not imagine holding the news for 12 weeks. It felt physically impossible. I remember staring down at my first positive test in 2019 and instantly picking up the phone to tell J. He didn’t answer and maybe there was a flicker of ‘I-should-wait-make-it-special-carve-out-some-space,” but any bit of restraint came and went and the next thing I knew I was texting a picture of the double lines to him in the middle of his work day.
When I found out I was pregnant for the third time (this time unexpectedly), 6 months after having Harper, who I’d had 18 months after having Riley, I cried on the bathroom floor of my co-working space. I called Jared instantly. He was stunned. I called my sister instantly. I called my mom instantly. I took all three tests in the box one after another. I postponed a meeting with my boss and then paced up and down the halls peaking into offices for someone to TELL. I remember my friend was tucked into a work pod, headphones on, and I waved her down, mouthing “Do you have a second,” to which she indicated she was about to start a zoom call. Thank goodness, as it would have been completely inappropriate for me to share in my current state, or really at all. We were office friends, not friend-friends. Eventually I logged into the postponed meeting with my boss and the instant she asked if everything was alright, I blurted it out in a huff and then started consoling her as if she was me. “Don’t worry! It’ll be fine. It’s just a bit of a shock,” I said red in the face, clearly hopped up on adrenaline and panic. Eventually I settled into the news, grew excited and grateful…and then came the confusion and despair of loss. But my point here is…CONTAINMENT. It’s not something I’m great at, and this pregnancy has taught me the power of keeping things for yourself. We didn’t tell friends and family until 14 weeks because of the pain of sharing our losses the last two times, which for me deeply intensified the already intense pain because as it turned out nothing and no one made me feel less lonely or grief-ridden, nobody could make it better, and that made it hurt even more. So, this time we sat with the news and the fear and the possibility that this might be it but also might not be. It was just ours to hold. No external comforts, just our own commitment to being with what what was and knowing certainty does not exist.
When I think about why containment has felt so uncomfortable for me, why I’ve felt the need to tell the mailman I’m pregnant the moment I find out, it seems like there’s something there about my insides matching my outsides, wanting to be seen exactly as I am, despite the impossibility of controlling anyone else’s perceptions. And there is also wanting to outsource the feelings, to expel them from my body by putting them out into the world. Sure, all of that is valid, but to notice this tendency and to choose differently felt like real progress in learning how to hold myself. I’m so happy to share this news with you, and nothing has been more rewarding than sitting with it, discerning my actual readiness, letting it just be mine for a little bit!
With love,
Stephanie
Stephanie, I resonate SO MUCH with this! In my last pregnancy ALL I WANTED was to tell people, but because of the Texas abortion ban wanted to keep it to myself until I knew it was viable... so difficult. THEN when it turned into miscarriage I felt like I was practically shouting it from the rooftops: Everyone NEEDED TO KNOW. Only, of course, they didn't.
So hard to find that balance and to know what's the right time for you to share. I'm so happy for you and even happier about the sex. Text me any time, nothing is TMI!
Aw so happy for you, I’m sure it’s been a difficult journey, I actually struggle to imagine what pregnancy would feel like after pregnancy loss, when the innocence has been stripped from you. I too am a “tell the mailman” I’m pregnant kind of person, it must feel good to have chosen differently. Sending love and hoping the nausea eases off completely very soon x