a surprising regret

I think one of the aspects that make me want to tell people about this new pregnancy earlier is that I feel I missed out on this with A & C. I was worried something would go wrong, and I thought I had time…

The contrast between how people avoid talking about them now, and how I’m sure they would have happily asked about living babies, is striking and painful. I sort of regret not having shared the happy times I had with them. I think for many around us, the experience with A & C stands out only as a dark spot in our lives. But that isn’t true. There was so much love and happiness.

And perhaps another aspect is that I now know that not telling won’t protect me from anything. (Rationally, of course I knew that before, but infertility comes with far too much wishful thinking…)

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6 thoughts on “a surprising regret

  1. That’s an interesting and important perspective. I think that we protect ourselves so much from pain, but when, in reality, the pain will be there regardless. And it’s nice to have support and happy memories to share.

  2. that’s such an important point: your girls brought you so much happiness even if their short lives ended tragically. To deny the happiness is to deny their existence, and that’s just wrong. They existed. They lived.
    And I can see why you would want to now tell and be happy about your Strawberry baby. Each moment counts, no matter what comes after this moment. And right now, you want to celebrate the fact that there is a wee one growing inside of you. (and we celebrate with you :)

  3. I think there’s a lot to be said for telling “early,” for the reasons you mention. I remember being surprised when a friend of mine (who is enough older than I am that this was years before I was ttc) told her whole community almost as soon as she knew she was pregnant. But, she explained, she would want support from her community if the baby died, so it made sense to tell them. As it happened, the baby did die, and you know, she was right. Everyone came together in a way that I think they might not have otherwise, and while some people might have found the same attention overwhelming, she felt supported and loved. That was the first time it occurred to me that the prohibition on telling in the first trimester, usually described as protecting the expectant mother/family, is really more about protecting the rest of us from even being aware of the pain of loss.

  4. While I certainly wish to never have thought about this, what you write does remind me that it’s important to ask people how they’re doing after loss. So often we just ask “how are you?” As a formality and not really wanting to know. And when we DO want to know sometimes we’re hesitant to ask. But we need to ask. We need those people to know they’re cared for.

  5. Yes! It made me so angry when I recently heard a family I know was waiting until after their anatomy scan “just in case.” I wanted to shake them and tell them to celebrate that baby now, “just in case” it’s the only time they ever get to.

  6. When I had my miscarriage, and thought that maybe we weren’t ever going to have kids, at least we got to celebrate and know what it was like to tell his parents. We got to experience that joy, along with the idea of actually planning a nursery and picking out names. I had been grateful for at least that. Fortunately we did go on to have our twins. We did wait to tell everyone with them, but I understand exactly what you are talking about and it puts things into perspective in a whole other way.

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