The Pregnancy Announcements
Another one.
ANOTHER friend was announcing her pregnancy, except this time she had tears streaming down her face as she told me her exciting news. I choked back my own tears, put on a brave face, and wished her congratulations. Her empathy truly touched me.
Most of the other girls who have gotten pregnant in the last few years had no idea that I was even trying, so there was no hesitation in their announcements (not that I expect there to be any).
I made it clear to my close friends that the last thing I wanted was for them to feel “guilty” that they got pregnant so quickly, and I didn’t want anyone feeling dread in telling me something that was so exciting and special to them – but that was obviously inevitable.
There have been many moments in the last few years that I have begged for my journey to be over just so my close friends and family would no longer have to go through the fear, dread, and the anxiety of having to tell me their “good” news.
I used to feel sorry for them, and even guilty that I was putting them in such an awkward position.
For THEIR sake, I wanted MY journey to be over.
Jarod obviously thought that was ridiculous, and emphasised the fact that I was a pathological people pleaser: and even though he had a point I still felt empathy towards the “difficult” situation that I felt I had put them in (as that is how I perceived it).
But through lots of therapy I have finally started taking responsibility for my life ALONE. It is not my place to take responsibility for other people, their actions or their emotions. That even goes for my husband. I am not responsible for what he feels. That is his journey, not mine.
Also, I will openly confess that when you are living with omnipresent suffering in a state of endless torture (which only those of you experiencing this know exactly what I mean) you eventually and inevitably lose the ability to feel pity for the soul that has this acute and short-lived “torture” of dread; which only lasts until they tell you – and then its over – and they move on with their lives.
Throughout the years I have handled pregnancy announcements in surprisingly different ways, though one factor remains constant – I ALWAYS cry.
When my husband and I went to the counsellor at the fertility centre, my husband confessed that he was exasperated with the way I handled pregnancy announcements.
“It is a waste of energy,” he stated in his logical, engineering, male-minded way. “It is an inefficient use of our time, energy and emotion,” he continued,”we need to conserve what little we have left for the journey ahead.”
He had a point, but life – and a woman’s mind – is not that simple.
The counsellor smiled gently and nodded, “That is the way that males typically react,” she informed my husband, “but unfortunately, most women on the infertility journey get upset with pregnancy announcements and that’s just the way it is.”
She encouraged him to just hold me, let me cry and say that it sucks. I nodded in agreement and felt relieved that at least one useful thing came out of this session. Jarod just sunk deeper into his chair as he heaved a sigh of hopelessness.
So why do we get so upset with pregnancy announcements?
Are we envious of what other people have? If we are, that is ok.
For me, each pregnancy announcement seemed to highlight my “inadequacy” to achieve what even the most unhealthy, alcoholic, meth-head “bogan” (Aussie slang for white trash) could do. My job seemed to highlight that every single day.
Sometimes the pregnancy announcement felt like a sting, sometimes a slap, and other times it felt like a punch in the face.
The way I reacted to pregnancy announcements was multi-faceted.
Simple things affected my reactions; such as SLEEP, STRESS and the TIME OF THE MONTH. Those played a moderate role in my reaction and I would be aware that I was having a heightened emotional response due to those unfortunate factors.
TIMING also had a huge impact on my reaction. Some announcements were just unfortunately at a difficult time in my journey. If I had been having a particularly bad couple of weeks, and someone announced their exciting news, I would have a complete melt-down.
For example, my poor cousin (who is my age) got pregnant with her 3rd baby at the time of my first failed cycle of IVF. Anyone going through IVF knows that the first fall is the hardest, and I had reached a new low: sitting in the deep abyss of my shredded soul. It was in that unfortunate moment that my cousin called me to announce her pregnancy. I understand why she did it; she didn’t want me to find out from someone else and she wanted to tell me as early as possible, so she told me right away. But it was unlucky timing and now I had to watch her progress and have a baby around the time that I potentially could have had mine had the IVF cycle worked.
It was like a king-punch and it wasn’t even her fault.
Another friend told me she had to see a counsellor in order to get advice on how to tell all her “infertile” friends that she was pregnant. The counsellor told her that there was never a good time to tell her friends; that each individual situation is fraught with layers of complicated emotion.
I agree with the counsellor – there is never a good time – but there is definitely a BETTER TIME.
TIMING also applies to how far along they are in their pregnancy. Casual friends and colleagues usually wait till 12 weeks to announce their pregnancies. That is the usual protocol and is expected.
For my close friends, I found that timing of the announcement appeared to affect me in a drastic way. Friends that told me early, around 6-8 weeks, elicited a deep respect from me; their actions communicated a level of understanding and empathy towards my pain – or perhaps they were just trying to end the “torture” of having to tell me – either way, I handled those much better.
CASUAL friends that told me at 12 weeks – well that elicited less of an emotional response because it met my expectations, as that is when people usually announce. On the other hand, CLOSE friends and family that told me at 12 weeks – well that caused a deep pain and I found myself moderately offended at the lack of respect towards my painful journey. I’d try to rationalise that perhaps they were “scared” to tell me, or even just plain naïve. But unfortunately for them, I had higher expectations from close friends and family and my emotional response obviously came from broken expectations.
But of course I must take responsibility for this, as Brené Brown says
Expectations are resentments waiting to happen.
I also handled pregnancy announcements better when I was expecting the announcement. For example I had a few close friends that respectfully let me know they were trying for a family.
Being a midwife, I am aware of the typical time frames until conception.
5.3 months is the average time to pregnancy.
Most couples will be pregnant at the end of 12 months
98% of couples will be pregnant by the end of 2 years
And of course, there is always the chance that it happens on the first try
And, being a midwife, I am also aware of how common miscarriage is, especially in our 30’s, so I would obviously respect their space and would never dare ask of their progress, unless they volunteered that information.
For those friends that I knew were trying, I would mentally prepare myself with these realistic expectations, and I found their inevitable announcements less distressing.
I also expected most of the girls that had one child to soon be announcing their second. Sure enough, within the typical 2 year time frame they all announced that they were expecting their second child (most of them completely unaware that I had started trying to get pregnant before they even tried for their first). As I was expecting this announcement my emotional response was mild, but it was still hard to watch them progress with their pregnancies and have their 2nd baby; when I still hadn’t had my first.
Now I am aware that I am in 0.5-1% of the population, therefore it is highly likely that almost EVERYONE will get pregnant before me. But if I had a simple heads-up, that seemed to make a huge difference, even with the girls going through IVF. I expected that at some point most of them would get pregnant- and they have.
I hoped that I might be pregnant with them, and it was heart-wrenchingly difficult to watch them succeed while I continued to ‘fail’, but deep down I knew that my condition was more severe than theirs and I should not expect similar results.
But it was the UNEXPECTED pregnancy announcements from close friends and family that left me reeling with shock.
Some of them weren’t sure if they even wanted children; it was these pregnancy announcements that felt like a literal punch in the face. It would send me into a frenzy of weeping until all the anger, envy, fury, disappointment and bitterness would leave me.
I’d lay on the floor, in silence, unsure yet if all my tears had been shed or emotion released. After a few motionless minutes of relief, I’d weakly stand up, wipe my tears, and get on with my day.
After a few years I perfected this process. I’d set a timer on my phone for 10 minutes and allow myself to weep uncontrollably for this set and controlled period of time. After the alarm went off, I’d stand up stoically, wipe my tears and get on with my day.
Location was sometimes difficult, depending on when I got the announcement, so my weeping would sometimes be segregated to a bathroom stall – sometimes at work, and twice at the airport.
But allowing myself to release those emotions proved to be vital in my ability to continue on with my day (and my difficult journey). Those ten minutes of release were not only cathartic, but supremely healthy, and I always felt better afterwards; the wiping of my tears a symbol of cleansing and forward motion as I’d nod to myself in the mirror – stoic jaw clench and all: a testament to the fact that suppression suppresses healing.
But, regardless of all these factors; regardless of the timing, their gestation, the unpredictable stage of my journey; regardless of whether they had given me a gentle heads-up or surprised me unexpectedly – the NUMBER ONE FACTOR that affected the depth of my emotional response to their announcement was whether or not they had ever shown me empathy.
Those beautiful souls in my life that simply said, “What you’re going through sucks.”
The ones that acknowledged my pain and my suffering.
They didn’t try to fix it (cause nothing can).
They didn’t say they understood what I was going through (because you truly can’t, unless you are in it).
They didn’t offer ridiculous solutions (it makes me too furious to even consider repeating some of the stuff that has been said to me).
They just gave me a hug, took me out for coffee, distracted me with simple joys or sometimes just listened gently as I would debrief.
That’s it – it’s actually that simple.
And here is nugget of gold that will radicalise the way you treat your loved ones in the future – these simple things APPLY TO ALL FORMS OF SUFFERING AND PAIN.
The people that showed me LOVE elicited a very different response from me.
Crying is obviously inevitable, but at the end of my tears I would truly feel a genuine joy when they told me that they were expecting a beautiful bundle: an immaculate miracle.
Because at the end of the day, karma is real; LOVE begets LOVE.
