It’s not always devastating. I’m pretty sure I had an early miscarriage. I felt kind of pregnant, and I missed a period, then had a very heavy period. (I never had any pregnancy tests, but the two times I had babies, I knew I was pregnant right away.)
I didn’t mourn. I don’t feel like it’s a baby yet, at that point. I wanted to get pregnant, but I’d already had one baby, and expected to be able to have another. (I did.)
I didn’t tell people in part because I didn’t want to explain why I wasn’t upset if something were to happen.
There’s also a bit of wanting to get used to the idea yourself before dealing with people gushing over you congratulating you. You also don’t want people making comments on whether or not you’re showing, until there’s some possibility you might be.
We didn’t tell anyone until I was about 12 weeks. Which was an awesome day; it was my birthday, and Thanksgiving, and after I opened all the presents, I stuck a bow on my belly and shouted to my mom, “Wait, there’s one more present!” Hallmark moment.
Then I had a c-section 11 weeks later. Which I think was kinda extra difficult for everyone around me, because no one had a chance to get used to the idea that I was pregnant before I wasn’t anymore. She seemed even preemie-er than she was.
But yes, like others, I didn’t tell earlier because I’d had a string of friends miscarry at 7 weeks over the prior five years. I didn’t want to deal with a high risk of telling everyone there wasn’t going to be a baby after all.
I found out I was pregnant at 6 weeks, the baby died around 10 weeks (hard to say, I went in for my second ultrasound and there was no heartbeat.) We had told everybody. I don’t regret it for a second. I was completely socially isolated at the time, and I had a total outpouring of support from people online, on Facebook, etc, reading women’s stories in blogs and more, I really don’t know how I would have survived without being open about it. I was a Mom for 10 weeks. I will never hide my joy or grief about that.
I’m not talking about a specific person preparing specific colleagues for your personal loss. I’m talking about a society and professional life in general that is prepared to allow people suffering from loss the time time to deal with it.
If people routinely keep their conceptions and miscarriages secret, then the broader society isn’t prepared for the general idea that this is something that they should expect people in general to need time for.
As a society we have too much of an expectation for people to keep a stiff upper lip and put their shoulders to the grindstone regardless of what might happen in their lives.
The idea of miscarriage being a more open subject in society would help make individuals and organizations more open to the idea that people will need time off to deal with something like this, especially because it’s far more common than most people realize.
Our employers and other institutions need to be changed to more to take into account difficulties that human beings face. The idea that employers can get away with giving only 10, or seven, or zero sick days, or only three days for the loss of a parent, or whatever, is laughable. Our professional lives must be much more attuned to human weaknesses.
The custom of not telling predates prenatal scans, so the reason is less about any possible chance of the consequences of an elective abortion than the desire to avoid lots of excitement until after the greatest danger is past.
We found out the hard way. After our oldest died, the second pregnancy was a miscarriage. There were people we had told initially but who didn’t hear about the follow up and it was awkward to suddenly see them several months later and be asked how it was going, especially because of the death of Ian.
We only told a few people in real life about the subsequent pregnancies, including the two who survived and the other miscarriage.
I did share the pregnancies here on the dope because of all the support we had been shown, but of course there were some who didn’t see the news of the second miscarriage and would ask bout it. That really wasn’t as bad, because we already had Beta-chan and time had passed some so it didn’t hurt as much.
Had we not had a child survive, I think I wouldn’t have shared again until after 12 weeks, even here.
On facebook, it would be easier because there are fewer people involved and they are more likely to see the news.
I remember the whole saga. Your daughter and mine were both born the same year. Mine a bit too early but totally fine, yours way too early. I read all your posts about her.
My brother Jay is currently in the second stage of an adoption; his fiancee asked for a child eight years ago, she’s now been assigned one. If everything goes well, the new nephew will be here around Christmas (just in time for his second birthday!).
They’ve told the nearest relatives, but they’re telling very few people until after they’ve met the boy (next month) and been ok’d for the paperwork to continue. Reasons given: it still isn’t a sure thing, and if you tell people too early, then those last few weeks when you’re yourself feeling like “is this never gonna be over?” you’re fielding “when is the baby arriving?” every five minutes. When it arrives, it will be here when it is here. When you see Daddy walking around slightly dazed, with a goofy smile on his face? Baby has arrived.
Google “chemical pregnancy”. It’s when the egg becomes fertilized and dies (usually within 5 weeks) before any sign of pregnancy would be visible. It will still trigger hormones that cause a pregnancy test to show positive, but if a woman didn’t take the test, she might not even know she’s pregnant.
The reason people don’t tell anyone until after the 1st trimester is that once a fetus has reached around 12 weeks or so, it has a 99% chance of coming to term. The first 5 weeks, there is a fairly high chance of it not taking. So mostly it’s just a matter of waiting until it’s a done deal before getting everyone all worked up.
Nope. Actually it is estimated that 60% of pregnancies end in miscarriage, a huge number of those happen before the woman knows she’s pregnant. Among known pregnancies the number is closer to 25%.
A decent assessment of rates of pregnancy loss and frequent causes can be found here.
It gets a bit detailed, trying to distinguish clinically recognized pregnancies from earlier pregnancy losses. An overall 31% loss rate was determined.
We waited even longer due to having a new arrival. I was almost six months before it was general knowledge and difficult to deny. And then she was three weeks before her anticipated due date. So to most of my friends I was pregnant about the same amount of time you were - but with a seven pound baby at the end of it.
One of my girlfriends was due before I was. She told everyone immediately - and then reached the “we have to induce” point (they didn’t, she went right about then). We joke that I had the shortest pregnancy ever and hers was the longest. When I gave birth, my friends were under strict orders not to tell her until her daughter was born so as not to drive her over the edge during those last miserable weeks - about a week later. By coincidence, both girls have very similar names.
There is a reason we still occasionally call a girl who can drive “Baby Surprise.”
I know what a chemical pregnancy is, thanks. My take–which others have already posted–is that it isn’t that 25% of women who have lost a pregnancy had mostly chemical pregnancies. It’s that if you take chemical pregnancies into account, the rate of pregnancy loss is much, much higher–that 25% number seems likelier (and still seems really low) for cases where the women knew she was pregnant before she lost it.
She’s awesome. No deficits at age 11, which feels pretty miraculous, but is actually not statistically surprising for a micropreemie that survived at all. We’re into the totally normal tween struggles. (Like how to I tell her to put on a bra without body shaming? Ugh.)
I had two miscarriages prior to bringing a child to term. I then had two healthy children in a row, followed by a final miscarriage. We told everyone immediately about the first baby, then had the sorrow of fending off well wishes from casual acquaintances for months afterward. For the second pregnancy, we said nothing. Which turned out to be wise as I lost that baby just before the third month.
When baby number three (the first full term child) came along, we said nothing to either work, family, or friends until we had achieved the fourth month. Those who knew our history hovered over me so excessively that, while I appreciated their love and concern, I almost wished I hadn’t said anything until it was impossible to hide.
When baby number four (2nd full term child) was on the way, we told family early on, but didn’t tell our friends and work again until after the fourth month was achieved.
The final miscarriage happened so very quickly that we told no one it had even happened. We had barely found out ourselves before it was over.
My DIL’s first pregnancy was a miscarriage. She then had a very early preemie (born at 24 weeks), followed by a full term child one year to the day after the preemie’s original due date. In her case, due to the previous child being a preemie, everyone close to her needed to know about the new baby right away. We were all ‘on call’ in case she experienced any symptoms for which she would need to see a doctor. We had a whole network of family and close friends picking up notification shifts. She also quit her teaching job immediately as she was advised not to spend too much time on her feet. So in this case, work had to know right away.
BTW - our little preemie miracle boy is now 18 months old and has nearly caught up to other children his age. He doesn’t talk yet, but everything else is now on schedule for an 18 month old.
I am so glad to hear she’s fine. We need to start a Parents of Tweens to compare notes.
I am dealing with exactly the same: beginning of puberty (after the false alarm two years ago) and a child with no sense of modesty. She still acts and thinks of herself as a kid, regardless of what her body is doing.
That persisted for what I consider to be an amazingly long time. :eek:
In 1959, my mother was pregnant with my older brother. My paternal grandmother told her that she ought to stay in the house as much as possible. When my mother asked her why… in shocked tones, my grandmother answered, “People will know what you’ve been doing!!”
:rolleyes: My parents had been married for three years. :smack:
I can almost understand it, considering the word “pregnant” was taboo.