I’ve gotten to the part in my pregnancy books (my darling husband gave me another, figuring that it’d be too hard to read the one on twins he gave me back then) when the question turns to when to tell. Last time I had a deal with myself of only telling one person per day. I was so afraid something would go wrong, that I’d have to tell people we wouldn’t have a baby (or babies) after all. Well, and then we got to the point where I thought it was safe to tell (and hard to hide), and then things did go wrong and we didn’t get to take home our babies… and emailed everyone we had told, as we couldn’t face the idea of running into people and having to explain it in person. But I digress.
By only telling once we’re out of the trimester, while I understand the reasons so well, sometimes I think we’re not doing ourselves and other women or couples a favor. At that point, the majority of pregnancies do end well, so anyone who has never been in this unfortunate position will assume that announcement equals baby. Sometimes I wish for a society where I could make a cautious announcement earlier, with the knowledge that things are not “safe” yet (as if they ever were), but that I could use some support and understanding already.
I’m not planning any big announcements this time. I can’t stomach the thought. But I have mentioned this new pregnancy to a few people already, when the opportunity came up. Everyone is so excited for us. FIL, who has no medical education but loves commenting on such topics, thinks that my body is now used to being pregnant so everything should be fine. The cynical part of my mind wonders if my cervix is also used to opening… A colleague had seen many Japanese moms around and excitedly suggested that our kid could learn Japanes, while I just hope to make it to 24, 26, 28 weeks. It is very sweet, but at the same time I wonder if they cannot see how we worry that something might go wrong again. But perhaps they cannot stomach that thought.
With the girls, I often felt like an imposter when I said I was pregnant. Not sure why this was, and perhaps it is common after infertility. This time, I don’t. I’m owning this experience, despite all the concerns. In what might have been a spike of exuberant hope (in combination with the fact that I never quite lost some of the weight I put on with the girls, so that I’m already out of pants that fit) I have even ordered maternity yoga pants. And a scarf to hide the bump when desired, or simply protect against windchill. Because it was called rainbow scarf.