With my first pregnancy, as soon as I found out I was pregnant, I felt the pressure to keep that information secret. I went out to dinner with friends and discreetly ordered a sparkling water with lemon hoping it would pass for a cocktail as to not raise any eyebrows.
I was so excited, nervous, stressed, and exhausted with all the typical first trimester symptoms fighting for center stage. I remember crying over something touching at work that normally wouldn’t have produced an outburst of tears. My manager speechlessly watched me with a concerned look on her face as I embarrassingly reached for the box of tissues.
Once I made it to the second trimester, I started feeling more energetic and, although still no baby bump to show off, I felt like I had the society’s permission to begin announcing I was pregnant. I received the enthusiasm and emotional support I was craving during that first trimester. “How are you feeling?!” “How can I help!?” “What do you need?!”
Well, “I’m good now,” I thought. I am not waking up multiple times a night to use the restroom. I am over the shock and anxiety of how to treat my body differently now that I was responsible for growing another human. Aside from my reliably panic-inducing friend, Google, I made it through the first trimester in a secret silent struggle.
I began questioning if the three months of secrecy was worth it. Since the chances of miscarriage are highest in the first trimester, I didn’t want to get my hopes up. What if the worst were to happen? Well, if the worst were to happen, I would be devastated. And because I chose to keep silent about being pregnant in the first place, I would be grieving in silence too.
The secrecy in the first trimester not only deprived me of sharing and celebrating my joy, but it also could have prevented me from getting the necessary emotional support if I were to endure a tragic loss.
I started thinking about the other exciting things I’ve kept secret until confirming the outcome: job applications, contest entries, test results, etc. I realized the same holds true: withholding anticipated news during the hopeful waiting period doesn’t prevent me from pain, rather, it limits me from embracing joy.
So, with my second pregnancy, I did things differently. This time, I did not keep my news a secret. I decided that I was going share my exciting news with the people that I knew would be happy for me in times of happiness, and provide support for me in times of loss. I celebrated by choosing a path that felt best for me rather than the default set up by societal standards. And as I sit here more comfortably in my second trimester, I am glad I did.
