At 37 years old, it is not surprising that I have heard the phrase ‘I’m pregnant!’ uttered hundreds of times by many people I love and care about.
While I will always be happy for a friend with good news, I’m not the one to come to for screaming bouts of elation. I need time and space to digest the news and I’ll tell you why.
I have one son of five and after having a normal pregnancy with him; I suffered three miscarriages in a row.
Where as pregnancy is a wonderful life event to share with the world, miscarriage is a sad and lonely affair that no one really wants to talk about. At worst miscarriage is messy, painful and heartbreaking. At best it is inconvenient and frustrating.
So when a friend or associate joyfully announces a pregnancy at seven weeks gestation, I hope I can be forgiven for not being immediately excited. For me and for many other women, pregnancy doesn’t always result in a beautifully healthy baby swaddled in muslin, it results in blood, tears and lost hopes for a little one that will never come to be.
I understand that it is hard to wait for those first 12 weeks to pass before announcing a pregnancy, believe me I know because I have been there.
The morning sickness, the swelling boobs, the avoidance of alcohol – all massive indicators that you are indeed up the duff and sometimes it is just easier to tell the truth and head off the nosey inquisitors.
When I was pregnant with my son I was naïve and also extremely excited and couldn’t wait to tell anyone who would listen.
Luckily for my husband and I, my pregnancy with Toby went well and he was born healthy and noisy in September 2010. When I became pregnant for the second time a couple of years later, it didn’t seem necessary to wait or hide. While I didn’t (thankfully) announce it on Facebook, I was chatting about it to friends, the hairdresser and the babysitter.
When I had the scan at 12 weeks and I was told that the foetus had no heartbeat I was shocked, upset and embarrassed. I had to retract my happy news and simply move on. It was a case of ‘better luck next time!’ except that it wasn’t lucky then or the time after that. Blood tests and scans proved that I should be able to carry a pregnancy to full term but that sometimes miscarriage happens for all manner of unknown reasons.
I cried and raged and wailed ‘why me?’ but then as time passed and I witnessed friends suffer their own crappy news, I thought well, why not me?