Breaking the 12 week rule

(Originally posted 7/24/2009)

I’m pregnant.

I’m pregnant, and I’m speaking openly about it, despite the fact that I’m only about four weeks along.

Those of you in the know about these things may gasp a little at this faux pas.

There is a rule, you see, with pregnancies, that you shouldn’t share the news of impending baby-ness until you successfully pass the all-important 12 week mark. The reason for this is clear and morbid; pregnancies—all pregnancies—have about a 40 percent chance of resulting in a miscarriage before they reach the 13th week. So to talk about someone who might not come to be, it’s just not done. Not in so public a forum anyway.

The most common line of thought behind this is that the news of a positive pregnancy test is woefully hard to un-share. If you share the good news with a billion people, that’s a billion people who will need to be informed of a loss. A billion people who may, with good intentions, ask how the baby is doing when there is no baby. And that’s hard.

The problem for me, however, in this line of reasoning is the implication that one would continue on as normal, grieving in secret, as though that child that was lost just never was to begin with. That one could somehow go from day to day life without wearing that grief publicly, only slipping back into it along with sweats and fuzzy slippers in the comfort of one’s own home.

Some people can do that. I know I couldn’t.

I’ve never been a secretive person. I wear my experiences on my sleeve and speak openly about those things both painful and joyous. I live that way because I think those experiences –good and bad—are the ties that bind us together in humanity. Though you may not know what it is to suffer my pains, you have suffered, and that connects us. Though you may not have experienced my joy, you have been joyful, and that strengthens us. And frankly, I’ve lived more than enough of my life letting fear dictate my decisions.

Having a baby is the ultimate act of faith. For something that takes place entirely inside of your body, it is remarkable out of your control. Sure, you can do the smart things like avoid the things you need to avoid and take the vitamins you need to take, but most of it is spent as a urgent and whispered prayer.

And the thing is, if I were to lose this baby, it would hurt. “Hurt” here being the biggest understatement of my life. But I would get through it. I would survive it because I’ve seen a painful number of my friends endure the loss of a child. I would get through it because I have faith that things happen as they are meant to happen, and if I am to endure that experience, so be it. And I would get through it because of my friends and family, all of whom would know I was pregnant in the first place, because I refuse to obey the twelve week rule. If the worst should happen, I’ll need you. All of you. Just as I need to share happiness with you now.

So say a prayer for the unborn little someone, who, with some grace, will come to live with us at the end of March. And help me move on if that’s just not to be.

I heard it said once that “A baby is God’s opinion that the world should go on.” And this public shunning of the 12 week protocol is my affirmation that I will proceed throughout this pregnancy with faith, not fear.

And now, with friends, as well.