Trust
When we found out we were pregnant, Dean & I agreed to keep it a secret until week 12. Back then, I was really unsure how I felt about being pregnant 7 & to me, the silence was my way of not having to adopt anyone else's feelings OR having to explain my feelings which weren't still fully understood by me.
The week 12 thing was due to the high likelihood of miscarriage. There's a 20% chance of losing the baby before week 12. So, the doctor suggested waiting because telling people you're pregnant is great, but telling people you lost the baby sucks.
I also thought I wanted to have some screening done to find out if the baby was at risk for any genetic defects or abnormalities. If there was a chance the baby would be born with a defect, I thought I may want to terminate - and since we hadn't told anyone, noone would have to know of my choice.
The BIG challenge for me was that my mom was in town & for some reason, our conversations found a way to circle around to pregnancy, having children & babies over & over & over again. It was weird. She even asked me point blank if I was pregnant. I dodged the question, but found myself wanting more & more to confide in her, cry in her arms, just be held by her... be a baby myself for as long as I could. But I didn't. Dean & I agreed to not say anything so I didn't.
Then I had the first sonogram. I saw the little embryo & the little tiny heartbeat &... well... I knew how I felt. Joy. Happiness. Amazement. Wonder. Privilege. Honored. Terrified. Once the terror hit, I needed to talk to someone. The first person on my mind was Dean.
Dean was out of town that day so he couldn't go to the appointment with me. I called him as soon as I could, but got his voice mail.
I forgot about our agreement & needed to talk to my mom... then my brothers... then my closest girlfriends. I was so deliriously happy that I couldn't contain my thoughts and feelings and needed to talk about it with anyone who would listen! My family was happy - stunned but happy. I wanted to make decisions. I wanted to make a plan. I wanted to wear t-shirts that said "Knocked Up" and spend the next 7 months laughing my way through this amazing experience. Most of all, I wanted Dean to be happy too.
Not surprisingly, he wasn't. He wasn't happy that I broke our agreement of silence. He didn't get to see the ultra-sound so he wasn't awash in the same feelings that I was. He couldn't understand. I think he needs to be there for the ultra-sounds so he can connect what's happening inside me to something real.
I feel terrible that I broke our trust at this delicate time in our relationship. Now is when we should be able to trust each other more than ever - we're going to be responsible for a human being in a few short months & if we can't find a way to trust each other now, I worry about what's going to happen then.
Plus, I'm chock full of hormones.
The week 12 thing was due to the high likelihood of miscarriage. There's a 20% chance of losing the baby before week 12. So, the doctor suggested waiting because telling people you're pregnant is great, but telling people you lost the baby sucks.
I also thought I wanted to have some screening done to find out if the baby was at risk for any genetic defects or abnormalities. If there was a chance the baby would be born with a defect, I thought I may want to terminate - and since we hadn't told anyone, noone would have to know of my choice.
The BIG challenge for me was that my mom was in town & for some reason, our conversations found a way to circle around to pregnancy, having children & babies over & over & over again. It was weird. She even asked me point blank if I was pregnant. I dodged the question, but found myself wanting more & more to confide in her, cry in her arms, just be held by her... be a baby myself for as long as I could. But I didn't. Dean & I agreed to not say anything so I didn't.
Then I had the first sonogram. I saw the little embryo & the little tiny heartbeat &... well... I knew how I felt. Joy. Happiness. Amazement. Wonder. Privilege. Honored. Terrified. Once the terror hit, I needed to talk to someone. The first person on my mind was Dean.
Dean was out of town that day so he couldn't go to the appointment with me. I called him as soon as I could, but got his voice mail.
I forgot about our agreement & needed to talk to my mom... then my brothers... then my closest girlfriends. I was so deliriously happy that I couldn't contain my thoughts and feelings and needed to talk about it with anyone who would listen! My family was happy - stunned but happy. I wanted to make decisions. I wanted to make a plan. I wanted to wear t-shirts that said "Knocked Up" and spend the next 7 months laughing my way through this amazing experience. Most of all, I wanted Dean to be happy too.
Not surprisingly, he wasn't. He wasn't happy that I broke our agreement of silence. He didn't get to see the ultra-sound so he wasn't awash in the same feelings that I was. He couldn't understand. I think he needs to be there for the ultra-sounds so he can connect what's happening inside me to something real.
I feel terrible that I broke our trust at this delicate time in our relationship. Now is when we should be able to trust each other more than ever - we're going to be responsible for a human being in a few short months & if we can't find a way to trust each other now, I worry about what's going to happen then.
Plus, I'm chock full of hormones.
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