A big little secret

It's true that a baby might be as big as a grain of rice or a small piece of fruit--pretty small in the grand scheme of things. But my baby was the biggest little secret that I've kept in my entire life. I work at a Catholic school and have Catholic traditional parents, and I couldn't bare to disappoint my parents or my colleagues at my job, so I kept it to myself. Yes, it was beginning to look like I had a boob job or I put on a few extra pounds, but my body didn't scream pregnancy. Meanwhile, I was nauseous everyday, I had a never ending dull headache, I was more tired than I'd ever been and I had piercing pains on the right side of my abdomen (which turned out to be just a cyst). Add on the screaming hormones that come along with pregnancy, and I felt like my life and my body were spinning out of control and I was alone. With the exception of my sister, my boyfriend and a few close friends, nobody knew about my big, little secret. I felt completely alone.

I would go for a 3 mile walk around the lake while listening to my itunes and get excited as I imagined what my life would be like for my developing family and how I would teach my child to be a strong, independent, global citizen one minute. The next minute when I was feeling more confident, I would rehearse ways to break the news to my parents inside my head. Before I could finish the sentence, tears would gush out of my eyes and I would be overcome with sadness. I couldn't handle disappointing everyone. At the same time as I wasn't ready to share the news with my parents, I craved their support, and felt guilty for not sharing my major life milestone with them. My boyfriend and I had pre-planned a trip back to visit my family in Minnesota and contemplated telling them in person. However, I was overcome with anxiety, sadness and tears each time I imagined telling my parents. I began meeting with a prenatal counselor who comforted me by telling me that I should simply tell my parents when I was ready---that nobody would know when the time was right better than I would. We took the trip, my boyfriend and I each slept in our designated sleeping areas (there is a not married/no co-habitation policy in our home), and we made it through without anyone catching on. I was more tired than I'd ever been, requiring eight hours of sleep and a nap, rather than my usual six hours with no nap. I needed to get up in the middle of the night to sneak a snack, being careful not to be spotted, so I wouldn't alert anyone of any unusual circumstances. My mom had me climb onto a ladder to get some of her fine china out...being on a ladder when your balance isn't quite what it should be, isn't a great idea, but how would my mom have known that? On my my last night in town, I began sobbing uncontrollably once again--sadness, amplified by hormones. I was realizing that it would be a very long time before I'd be back home again. I'd miss Thanksgiving and Christmas, as I was due on Christmas.

I got back to California, had my 15 week check up and heard my baby's heartbeat. It had a strong and rapid rhythm to it--with 150 beats per minute. As a former percussionist, I shouldn't be that surprised that that it was the heartbeat that moved me far more than any of the blurry ultrasound pictures I had seen. Once I heard that beautiful sound, I gained some real confidence, I didn't feel alone anymore. I'd had a supportive boyfriend at my side the whole way through, but now I could feel and hear human life inside of me. That day my boyfriend and I did a conference call to my parents and my sister. We shared our news one step at a time--first, that we planned on starting a future together and second, that we were going to be parents. I was overcome by tears once again, but I explained to my parents that I was crying because I was emotional, but because I wasn't happy. It was sloppy, but we told them the news. A week later, my parents were in California visiting us. I cannot explain what an enormous relief it was to share the week with them without having to conceal a secret. I should mention that once I shared with my parents, I gained the confidence to tell my boss. To my great surprise, she was also supportive.

At the end of the day, it was me who was judging myself more harshly than anyone else. The moral of the story is that there is not a correct way to tell people or a mandated time frame for which others need to be informed. Only you know when the time is right. Trust your instincts. Reach out to non-judgmental friends who you trust to hold onto your big little secret so that you can build a support network. And, if you are in the position where you're unable or not ready to share with family and colleagues, utilize the services of a prenatal counselor. If your health provider offers any support service for either free or a small co-pay, treat yourself and your baby to that help. It will make you a better mama and help you learn how to develop your own support network.