The rule is you wait until after the first trimester to share your pregnancy news. After 13 weeks, it is “safe to make the announcement” and accept the congratulations and well-wishes.
News Flash! There is no safe zone. Certainly, the majority of miscarriages take place in the first trimester, but that doesn’t mean that when you reach 13-weeks gestation that you magically enter into a promise that you get to complete your pregnancy and bring your baby home.
We lost James at 17 weeks. We lost him on the very same day that we went public with our pregnancy. We accepted congratulations and condolences, simultaneously. We were well past the first trimester—we should have been safe to share our news. My OB even made the statement, “We just don’t see many miscarriages this late,” as though trying to understand himself. And what about the parents who lose their babies at 24 or 30 weeks, or at birth? They should have been safe, too.
Pregnancy… birth… life… love… all come with risk. Losing James did not hurt more because people knew we were pregnant or because we had to tell them of our loss. It hurt because we lost our son. We lost a child we hoped, prayed and dreamed for.
Because people knew, we had support, understanding, and love, rather than grieving alone. My regrets with James center around the lateness in the celebration. I was 16 weeks before I took the first belly pic; 17 weeks before I told work. I was busy with Connie and other life duties… I wish I would have paused more often and reflected on my child during those 17 weeks I had with him.
So when we became pregnant again, I decided I didn’t want to wait for some false safety net to share our news. I wanted to exhibit my excitement and rejoice in pregnancy. I wanted those that cared about us to target prayers and positive thoughts on the life I was carrying, that it be strong and lively. And I wanted our loved ones to celebrate with us.
At six and seven weeks we told family and close friends. At eight weeks our Christmas cards were hitting the mail which contained the news of a baby due to arrive in the summer. On Christmas day, one day shy of nine weeks, we experienced loss, disappointment, and heartache. Another miscarriage.
I could tell that some felt I shouldn’t have put it on our card, that I must regret doing so since we lost yet again with the reveal of our pregnancy. I shared my news ‘too early’.
Once again, having people know, especially over the holiday, was more of a blessing than a regret. I did not have to cover up my broken heart during family gatherings. I had empathy, and many needed hugs. As it was with James, I am glad for the support and that I don’t mourn alone. I’m glad that I made this life known–our baby was worth celebrating.
My focus was on Cody and the contractions. When I would think about my labor during pregnancy, my fear was that I would get scared, that I would tense up and not work with my body. Thinking back about my labor, I can happily say, I didn’t get scared of the contractions, I was in control of my labor, and was well supported by those around me. The contractions were doing the work, preparing my body to deliver our baby. At one point I left the tub to empty my bladder and sat on the toilet for a couple of contractions. After leaving the bathroom, and returning to the labor room, the song that came up on my iPod’s “pregnancy” playlist was Garth Brook’s Mom. I held on to Cody and rocked with him as this song threw me into emotion. The words hit home now more than ever, soon we’d be meeting our baby. Soon, this baby would be meeting their Mom. I wept, I sang. I rocked with my husband, The contractions continued in waves.
I got back into the tub and between contractions rested. The playlist continued and I sang along with the songs. Focusing on the lyrics helped relax me and pass time between contractions. Rachel joked that I could sell the playlist. At moments, it almost seems choreographed with songs like Mom, Let Her Go, Somewhere Over the Rainbow, and a set of classics from Mozart. Apparently the music moved more than just me and our emotions were felt by all those in the room.
witness natural child-birth. Who knows where these nurses will end up, perhaps in a facility that has high rates of intervention-lead births, rather than mother-lead births. I could allow them to see how it could be. Also in the room were my midwife and two nurses. 10 of us fit into that small space, but I was cushioned by the water, focusing only on Cody. It didn’t matter who was there. I never felt crowded or overwhelmed or exposed. And I think it was an experience for those present.
At one point my contractions became something more. I recalled reading that your body will tell you when to push. It does! It did! I resisted however. I didn’t want to push if I wasn’t yet fully dilated. With the next contraction, my midwife checked me and pushed back the remaining rim of my cervix. I was given the green light to push on the next contraction. The urge was incredible. It literally lifted me from the tub. With a water birth, it’s important to stay under the water completely, and its also important for my midwife to be able to monitor progress and see everything so they had me turn sideways in the tub, this gave me more leverage to push against the sides. My mother was behind me, my husband and midwife in front. I was supported and I was on the verge of welcoming my child.
During this entire time, following each contraction the nurse checked the baby’s heart rate with the doppler. In the back of my mind I feared hearing the words “the baby’s heart rate is dropping.” Those words never came. With each check of my babe, the heart rate boomed loud and steady for all to hear. It never once wavered, there was never any distress. The student nurse assisting us made a great statement that filled me with joy. “Listen to that strong heart beat. This baby loves their mama.”
With the next and final contraction, I pushed our baby out. In a fluid motion, our baby entered the tub into our midwife’s hands. She immediately brought our child to my chest, into my arms. It was surreal. And the pain was gone. Replaced by awe and love and gratitude. I was holding our baby, our healthy, beautiful baby. A baby with a head full of dark hair and stormy blue eyes. A babe that let out a cry the moment it broke the water’s surface. My jaw dropped, the tears rolled, my heart swelled.
together we prepared for the arrival, and together we labored and anticipated. He was happy, proud, emotional, and relieved. He was in the moment with me. In that moment in time, the three of us were the only ones who existed.
I turned to Cody and asked him a question I had asked him many times before, “what are we going to do with a girl?” This was our inside joke. …we have decided we are going to raise her to be smart and hate boys!
In short, my uterus was done. It did its job, it expelled my little girl. But usually, afterwards, it is supposed to keep working, continue contracting to stop the bleeding and shrink down. Mine was tired. So the bleeding would not stop. Getting the bleeding under control was priority 1. A nurse approached me with a needle in her hand and was heading for my arm. I drew back and told her “no!” She looked at me with astonishment. My midwife said, “Lori, we have to. It’s pitocin, we need your uterus to contract.” I begrudgingly permitted and laid my head back thinking how ironic it was that I went through my full labor and birth without medication only to have it administered now. But fine, do what you have to do to me. My baby is out, she is here, and God willing nothing will enter her system.
The nurse returned to insert an IV. She prepped my arm, warned me of the impending poke, and stuck me. She missed. Puzzled, she attempted again at a different location along my vein. Strike two. I was shocked. I have good veins, have never been missed. Turns out that the blood loss caused my veins to shrink/collapse making it pretty hard to get the IV in. After the botched attempt, the nurse returned with another needle, this time heading for the other arm. I again protested, indicating that I already had a shot. My midwife popped up from between my legs and again pleaded to get the shot in me. I thought the IV was for fluids, but turns out the IV was attempted to hook me to a full bag of pitocin. Because they could not get the IV in, a second shot was administered. Guess I’d rather have the two small shots than a full bag dripping into my system.
For my baby girl, it was worth it. What ever had to happen to me is superficial and just a memory of the experience that ushered her into this world. Our sweet Connie Elizabeth arrived weighing 7 pounds, 12 ounces, 20.5 inches long. My mother’s name is Connie, she now has a namesake. Elizabeth is Cody’s maternal grandmother’s name, but we all know her as Betty. I love traditional names, and this is a great way for us to honor some wonderful women in our lives. According to “name meanings,” Connie means strong-willed or wise. Elizabeth means God is satisfaction/oath of God.
My sweet Connie Elizabeth, thank you for the powerful gift of being a mother. You’ll never comprehend how much you consume me or how deep my love for you goes. Not until you welcome your own babe. (Which is many, many, many years from now!)
I’ve joked that early on and throughout the pregnancy I prayed and hope for the strength of my body and asked for a full term pregnancy. We had concerns about the stamina of my cervix, and now it’s showing us just how strong it is! It’s holding well to keep our baby safe and each additional day we get gives our child greater development. The brain and lungs will continue to develop, strengthening and preparing Baby LoCo for life outside the womb.
Too bad about our Badgers…. but it was a great season and a great team. Surely they made us all very proud of our WI sports program.
Baby: According to the “baby as a fruit” comparison, baby is the size of a mini watermelon. S/he is positioned low in pelvis. Heart rate has been in the 130s the past few weeks, but at Tuesday’s appointment, was in the 120s. Movements continue to be frequent but became stronger this week. They don’t hurt, but its clear s/he is lobbying for space in there and body parts are more pronounced with the movements, especially the butt, legs and feet.
The monitoring was far more intervention than what I desired. I would have preferred to not have had to have the ultrasounds, but when pregnant for the first time, you want to know you are doing what is necessary and take precautions. Even with the concern and increased monitoring, I was planning a natural birth, one I had always envisioned for myself.
Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth
Bear Vale Farm 
