With both of my pregnancies, I did everything wrong. You're not supposed to tell a living soul you are pregnant until after the third month, that "danger zone" during which most miscarriages happen. That's to save you the embarrassment of having to tell the world should you miscarry. And of course, I didn't follow that rule. Why? I don't know.
For one thing, it's hard for me to disguise my pregnancies. Within the first month, I look pregnant. Even if my weight doesn't change, it magically redistributes itself. I begin to look like one of those African fertility sculptures--butt, gut, boobs, and thighs. I can only squeeze myself into non-maternity jeans for so long before someone says, "Are you pregnant?" And then, the best thing to do is admit it, because it's just easier than lying.
For another, I carried my first daughter to term and then some, so I figured my second pregnancy would be fine too. True, I had preeclampsia and cholestasis with Olivia, but hey. I made it through and so did she and we were both perfectly fine. So I figured I was good to go. How very, very wrong I was.
We told everyone--and I mean everyone. All of our families gathered together for Olivia's 5th birthday and we made the announcement 3 weeks into my pregnancy. Everyone knew. Distant friends whom I only contact through Facebook, Olivia's kindergarten teacher, the kickboxing instructor who offered me three free lessons. And once I knew I was going to miscarry, I was faced with having to tell everyone that I lost the baby.
How can you take on such a daunting, embarrassing, and emotional task? Here's how we did it:
1. Appoint someone to help you. In my case, I sent an email to my mom and dad and asked them to handle telling the rest of the family. Why email? Because I am a writer. I communicate emotional things better in writing. Others may choose to make The Call, but I couldn't do it. My husband chose to call his father and asked him to break the news to the family.
And here's where I would issue a word of warning. Be sure the person you appoint understands his or her job. Zach meant for his father to tell everyone, but apparently his dad only told his wife. That meant that Zach's mom, brother, sister and a host of other relations were completely in the dark about it for a week. Until I posted something about pre-op bloodwork on Facebook, and all hell broke loose. So make sure the person knows exactly whom to tell. Otherwise, you might as well announce it yourself.
2. Don't make a Facebook, Twitter, or other social media announcement until the majority of other people know. You will miss a few people--that's a given. And Facebook has kind of become our 24 hour newsfeed, replacing that terrible 2am phone call when it comes to breaking bad news. But I still think it's too shocking to open my Facebook feed and find out that someone has died or has suffered a tragedy. So I tried to mitigate that as much as possible. In fact, I have barely posted anything on Facebook since the miscarriage took place.
3. Have friends spread the word. I told one of my close friends, Brittany Lee, because she had been through a miscarriage a few years before. She had been through this and I knew she would be understanding. Not only did Brittany spread the word, she also organized a series of "sunshine meals"--home-cooked dinners that my friends brought over every other night for two weeks. It was an immense help during a difficult time, but I really appreciated that Brittany told my friends so I wouldn't have to handle those emotional announcements too.
4. Realize that, as with anything pertaining to grief, there are going to be mess-ups. There is no perfect way to make the announcement and no perfect way to inform the world of your own personal tragedy. Do what feels most comfortable to you at that given time. And realize that people are going to give you advice. When I went to have my bangs trimmed this past weekend, the hairdresser told me, "So I guess you learned your lesson this time, huh? Never tell anyone until after the third month." Well, yes. Lesson learned, though I'd rather not have learned it the hard way.
How about you? Were you able to keep your miscarriage a secret, or did you have to make an announcement?
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