To Tell or Not To Tell?

My opinion on this question has changed several times over the course of my child-bearing years. I'm talking about whether or not to tell people right away about a positive pregnancy test. We told people almost as soon as we found out we were pregnant with our first 4 children. I knew that some people chose to wait until they were 8, 9, or 12 weeks pregnant to share the news out of fear of miscarriage. My thought was that I wanted to share the joy of being pregnant with my friends and family, that I would tell them about a miscarriage anyway, so why not share the joy, too? I think I also thought that miscarriage was something that happened to other people, not to me, although I would not have said that out loud.

Then, our 5th pregnancy ended at 6 weeks in miscarriage. I had already told a lot of people we were pregnant, so, in the midst of a very difficult emotional time, I had to call or email people and tell them I had miscarried. Many of them had questions, and it was hard to discuss the details so many times. By the end of the day, I was tired of talking about it and delegated the task of telling my sister-in-law about my miscarriage to my mother-in-law. On the plus side, many people were very empathetic and offered prayers and practical help, like babysitting and meals. Most of our friends and family recognized that we had lost a baby and offered condolences for our loss. It was comforting to know that others recognized the life that had been inside me was a real person, not just a clump of cells. Still, it was very hard to tell people that I had miscarried. I thought that I could spare myself some pain if I just didn't tell people I was pregnant right away the next time. So, I waited to tell the general public I was pregnant until I saw our 6th baby alive and healthy on an ultrasound at 9 weeks. I did tell close friends and family members about that pregnancy right away, though.

When I became pregnant for the 7th time, the memory of my last miscarriage almost 3 years ago was still fresh in my mind. I told a few trusted, close friends and some family members our news, but asked them to keep it quiet. I was very anxious those first few weeks, waiting and wondering if I would get to hold this baby. A good friend counseled me to trust in God and to choose to love the baby and let myself connect with him, no matter how short a time I might have him with me. As the weeks went by, I let go of some of my worries, especially when I passed the 6-week mark, which was the point at which my last miscarriage occurred. There was no bleeding, no cramping, so I thought everything must be fine. I began to look forward to seeing the baby's little bean-shaped body and tiny beating heart on an early ultrasound at my first doctor's appointment.

My first doctor's appointment was scheduled for Feb. 4, when I would be 8.5 weeks pregnant. I dropped my children off at my sister-in-laws house that morning and went to the doctor's office. In the exam room, the doctor counseled me on exercise, how I should watch my heart rate and switch to low-impact exercise once I got to 4 months. He started the ultrasound and pointed out my uterus on the screen. He found the gestational sac and pointed it out to me. I waited for him to point out the baby, since I couldn't see it. The sac looked strangely empty. Maybe the baby is still too small to see on an ultrasound...The doctor pointed out a faint gray area in the sac and explained that that was the inner sac, the chorion. I was still wondering where the baby was when the doctor's words interrupted my thoughts..."There should be a baby there...this is not a good pregnancy..."I stared in disbelief at the screen as his words sunk in, then started to cry. "I'm so sorry, kiddo," the doctor said. The rest of the appointment is a blur...he explained there was nothing that could have prevented this, the baby failed to develop, I needed a D & C, come back in 6 weeks, call the office if I started to bleed over the weekend, go to the ER if I started to hemorrhage. I couldn't stop crying.

Once I finally got out of there, I called Matt from the parking lot. He was in a training class that day, and it seemed to take forever to get ahold of him. He took the rest of the day off work and met me at the doctor's office. I called my mother-in-law and asked her to stay with the kids on Monday while I had the D & C. The kids...they were still at my sister-in-law's house...they didn't know I was pregnant, and neither did my sister-in-law. My mother-in-law called my sister-in-law and told her what had happened. Matt and I decided to go ahead and tell the kids about the pregnancy. There was no hiding it from them now. I called or emailed the friends and family I had told about my pregnancy and asked for their prayers.

Sunday came, and we went to Mass. I did not want to go to Mass and pretend that everything was fine. I wanted to stay home and cry. It did not help at all that there were people at Mass who knew we had lost our baby and ignored us. This was very painful to me.

On Monday, I went to a local outpatient surgery center and had the D & C. The procedure went smoothly and I returned home shortly after waking up. I was thankful that at least the physical part of the miscarriage was not as painful as it had been last time.

However, keeping my pregnancy a secret from most people did not make losing my baby any easier. If anything, it was more difficult because I felt that I did not have "permission" to be upset or sad around people who didn't know. In some way, it is comforting to have the freedom to be sad, to know that people understand my loss and that they are praying for me. We didn't tell our children about my pregnancy because we knew that they would tell everyone. When we discovered that the baby had died, and that I would need a D & C, we had to tell them something. They are old enough to notice when things aren't right. Sadly, they only knew about their baby brother when it was time to grieve his loss, and they never got to have the joy of expecting him. I regret that now.

If a pregnancy ends in miscarriage, there will be pain. Whether everyone knows, or only a few people know, or only my husband knows, there is pain. There is the pain of an empty void, of a missing person. Whether or not I tell people I am pregnant only changes whether or not there is support should I miscarry.

I want my baby to be remembered. I don't want to pretend he never existed. He did exist, and we loved him. We still love him, and we hope to see him and his sister in heaven someday.

Emmanuel Joseph, pray for us!