I started this article many, many months ago, (and finished it a couple of months ago… only now do I feel ready to have it published). Perhaps, you know what it is like. You get the news, and you are just so excited and just want to shout it out loud!
But, as you are not supposed to say anything until week 12, I thought I’d put it into a blog post to be published at a later date. That way, I felt like I shared the news without giving away this “secret”, after all…
I wrote about how I discovered the news:
“This story started that day I was planning to meet up with a friend for a drink (after our kids had gone to bed). I wanted to check to make sure it was ok for me to actually have a drink, as my husband and I were “trying” for a baby. I had no indications that it wouldn’t be ok, but I got a positive pregnancy test — I couldn’t have a drink!
First, I didn’t believe it. I looked at the instructions again and again, compared the pictures with what I had in my hand, and after about five minutes, I started to believe it. I ran into the bedroom, woke up my husband and showed him. He didn’t really believe it either (sorry, we are not normally that slow!), but there it was. And so, a new phase in our life began.”
And I wrote about how I felt:
“I find it just as strange this time as last time. That when it happens, you get so excited about it, and you just want to shout it out, but then you can’t! (Well, of course you can, but we chose to wait a bit.)
And, you have this great big secret that you are hiding from everybody, and it wasn’t until our first scan that we started to dare to share it.“ (I did of course know which week the scan would be and when I could start to schedule this article. And, of course, my closest friends and family would know our news by the time this article was published.)
But, we never got that far. It went wrong in week 12, and now I am left feeling so silly and feeling quite sorry for myself. We know all the facts. The chances of losing a pregnancy before week 12 is about 25%. (I don’t know if this statistic is local or what, but it is the number we are told here in Norway.)
And yes, that is the reason we didn’t start telling everybody our news earlier, but I honestly did not think it would happen to me… Famous last words, eh?
So, it went wrong, and only a couple of people knew. In one way I am glad I hadn’t spread the word yet, as it meant fewer phone calls to let people know the news. But, at the same time, I now had this need to talk about it.
One friend (the same one mentioned above about the drink) asked me one day how I was feeling, if our holiday had been good, and I just couldn’t bring myself to say the standard “oh yes, it was lovely, thank you”, which is what I had been planning. I guess I figured that if I didn’t talk about it, I could pretend that none of it had happened.
I am not the kind of person who always feels the need to talk about things, or to analyse things in detail. And, although I have told people, I am not expecting them to sit down with me to talk. As I said, I know all the facts, and having more people telling me that it is “nature’s way of dealing with things”, or that “remember you are so lucky to already have a baby”, and “this doesn’t mean things will go wrong next time”, or “it was not my fault” doesn’t make me feel any better.
I do know all those things, I know all the facts, and I am normally quite a realistic person. But right now, I can’t help but feel a loss and a sadness that I can’t really explain.
Have you experienced the high and low of pregnancy loss? Were your feelings similar or different to Asta’s?
Photo credit to Pol Sifter. This photo has a creative commons attribution license.