Today’s topic is not a fun one. So you better stop reading now, if you expect some lighthearted fare.
Right now the media are freaking out that Kate Middleton is pregnant. She got hospitalized for morning sickness, therefore the world knows now.
I am wary of announcing pregnancies early, because a whole lot of pregnancies that are in the first trimester do not make it into the third and beyond. A whole host of things can go wrong, and in very many cases they do. I know what I am talking about. I had two miscarriages myself.
With the first one, we had been telling everyone early on that I was pregnant. Then the ultrasound came and there was no heartbeat anymore and the prospects of this tiny little thing becoming a baby, a human being, were getting squashed. It was tough.
Telling everyone that I was not pregnant anymore was tougher. We had to answer questions (Why? When? Are you sure?) We had to accept outpourings of concern (I’m so sorry) and one of our relatives even blamed me for the loss (Maybe you’re just too old for that.)
All I wanted was to move on. To focus on something else and not be constantly reminded of the fact that I had lost the possibility of this child. But having to un-tell everyone did not let me move on. I had to relive the traumatizing moment again and again in those conversations. I wanted to escape from the whole topic of child birth, but couldn’t. Also, having a miscarriage initiated me into some sort of club. Everyone of my friends or relatives who ever had a miscarriage, told me about it. It seemed like all of them had at least one and I was not alone. It was supposed to help me. I am not sure it did. Maybe it helped my friends and relatives to finally be able to talk about it.
One of the cruelest things I had to face was the surgery questionnaire for the D and C. It asked right there if I was pregnant or not. I answered: Not anymore. There are very few other times in my life when I had felt as such a failure.
Thankfully, my next pregnancy resulted in our lovely son.
The second miscarriage happened between my son and my daughter. It was sad. It was painful. It was not nearly as traumatic as the first miscarriage, because that time we didn’t tell anyone of the pregnancy and I was left in peace, because people weren’t aware that I was pregnant in the first place.
Lastly my daughter was born and now I have two great kids. I will never forget though, that I was pregnant four times, not two. And whenever I see people announce their pregnancies early on, I hope for the best and secretly wish they had kept it to themselves for their own sake.