However, most blogs, books and formerly pregnant people suggest that it’s best to wait until after the first trimester to announce the proof of your fertility to the world. The simple rationale behind this advice is that miscarriages are more likely during the first trimester, so it’s usually a good idea to wait until after your spawn has survived this phase to announce its existence. This made great sense to me. (It also confirmed my suspicions about why the public health centre wasn’t particularly interested in seeing me until my second trimester… but I digress.)
Anyhow, I was all set to wait until my 13th week to tell close friends and family that I was preggers. As the idea of telling them before that point and then possibly having to make the rounds announcing an unfortunate miscarriage was mortifying and depressing. So, despite my partner’s eagerness to shout the news from the rooftops, I swore him to secrecy.
And then I got sick.
You’ll never guess what folks assume when a formerly healthy woman of childbearing age suddenly becomes fatigued and nauseous. It took less than a week for my female co-workers to begin giving me the side-eye and I’m pretty sure it was in the second week that a particularly astute friend advised me to pee on a stick. Still, I might have gotten away with it, if it wasn’t for the meddling hyperemesis and it’s non-stop vomiting. See, it’s kind of difficult to take 2 or 3 weeks off work to barf into a bucket without telling your boss you’re knocked up. Once you’ve decided that you have to tell your boss (the last person you wanted to tell), you’ve got to tell your friends and family. Which is how I ended up breaking the news to a bunch of people in my 8th week.
The best-laid plans.
So now, my family knows, my closest friends know, some of my colleagues know, and some folks I don’t really know, know (naturally, my partner got to tell his friends too). I’m only just easing into my second trimester and I’ve already got pregnancy fatigue. After all, there’s only so much time I’m going to want to spend discussing pregnancy symptoms with folks that aren’t even supposed to know I’m pregnant in the first place.
None of the blogs warned me that gestating can be a full-time job in itself. The only consolation is that (in my 15th week) I don’t really have much of a belly yet, which means that folks haven’t begun groping me yet. Truth be told, though, I’m sort of looking forward to the first unsuspecting individual who thinks it’s a good idea to grab a hormonal woman’s belly without an invitation.
That’s going to be fun.