No, It’s Not My First

Three weeks after Maliyah died, I reached out to the Pregnancy Loss Support Program, and they matched me with a Peer Counselor, who I spoke with a few times. The thing I remember most from our conversations was when I asked her when I would feel normal again, and she said “never.” She said, “even if you decide to have another pregnancy, a random stranger will stop you in the grocery store aisle and ask you when you are due, and if it’s your first. And for the rest of your life, you’re going to face that, and other questions that have no good answers.”

At the time, I thought she was insane. Another pregnancy? Over my dead body. Literally.

But she was right, of course. I am still non-pregnant-passing in most random-stranger scenarios, but at the gym, in spandex and tank tops, it’s become obvious.

The issue is: it’s not my first. But unless I want to follow up with “my first one is dead,” then I never quite know what to say. If I say I have another kid, then they ask how old she is (dead) or how I feel about being a mom of 2 (probably not the way they think I’d feel, since one is dead). If I do say it’s my first, then people assume I don’t know what’s coming, and offer their unwelcome advice, and I do know.

When I first started to tell my coaches at the gym that I was pregnant, only one of them knew about my pregnancy last year. For the ones who didn’t know about it, I figured they would ask me if I wanted modifications for certain exercises, and I wanted to nip that in the bud. To get ahead of that question, I came in for the kill with the overshare. After their squeals of excitement, I said, “I don’t think you know this, but I was also pregnant last year. The baby died, and I almost died. So, this time around I have a very large team of doctors giving me a lot of advice, and I’ll be following that advice and making some of my own modifications.” This was usually followed by shock, nods, a few “I’m so sorries” and “of courses,” and from then on, I was free to take things at my own pace, unbothered.

I wish I didn’t have to be so blunt, but I just couldn’t stand the thought of playing dumb. I didn’t want to pretend I needed help with a modification for a cross-body woodchop when I was already 25.5 weeks pregnant less than a year ago. I knew what to do and what not to do, and I didn’t want to draw any more attention to myself.

It’s not my first. I know what exercises to modify. I know what foods not to eat. I know to try not to sleep on my back. I know to take the trash out daily because the smell makes me want to vomit. I know every test and scan that exists. I know how my body will look and change and feel. I know, because I’ve done it before. RECENTLY.

This time, I also have a huge team of doctors giving me (sometimes conflicting) medical advice, so I don’t need any more people’s advice, especially less qualified people. I now have the BEST OF THE BEST on my team, experts in their field, sometimes the foremost in their field in the country, thanks to living in New York. They know their shit. As I said to someone recently, “you know the saying, ‘there are too many cooks in the kitchen?’ Well, I have too many doctors in my uterus.”

Also, my pregnancy is not a normal one. Most people under the age of 85 don’t have a nephrologist on speed dial. Therefore, while some coaches at my gym may have training in coaching normal pregnant people, they probably don’t have training coaching “special needs Emily.” I don’t blame them, even most doctors wouldn’t know! Heck, I had different advice from 2 doctors on my own team! But the point is, this ain’t my first rodeo. I know more about the specifics of pregnancy than probably 99.9999% of childless non-doctors; I’ve dedicated the past year of my life to research and information-gathering.

I also know more about pregnancy than a large percentage of people with living children. That’s because I’ve now gone through 2/3 of a pregnancy twice, first with a very complicated pregnancy, and now, a super high risk one. I know every possible scan, every possible blood test, every possible complication. I know the different trisomies by heart, and which tests can screen for them. I know multiple different types of cerclages. I know when bed rest is recommended (almost never) and which recommendations are old wives’ tales. Most people go through a pregnancy with naïvity. I have none of that, but I have a boatload of knowledge. So no, it’s not my first.

The complicated part, of course, is that I have nothing to show for it. How do I explain that I have been 25 weeks pregnant, AND 14 weeks pregnant, but I’ve never parented a child? I don’t. I just stay away from people, mostly, especially parents. I steer clear of conversations I don’t want to be a part of or can’t contribute to. When I see people talk about how they don’t want their kids to grow up, and they want them to stay just this age forever, I shut my mouth. Because I know that’s not true. I know they’d be devastated if their kid, in fact, never grew up. I know because mine never did.

I find that the more often I share about Maliyah as part of my story this time around, the more comfortable I am. Instead of just saying, “I’m pregnant!” I’ll say, “I’m pregnant again!” Depending on the situation, and if I’m in a charitable mood and want to lighten the emotional load on the listener, I sometimes add some humor or jest.

I used this humor tactic recently when I went to the dentist. One year ago at the dentist, I was pregnant. At the time, my gums were bleeding every night when I flossed, so I mentioned it. The female dentist said that it happens often in pregnancy, and not to be too worried about it. Then, 6 months later at the dentist, I wasn’t pregnant. Unfortunately, they assigned me to a dental hygienist who was 9 months pregnant. She asked me if anything had changed “in my general health” since my previous appointment. I said, “I was pregnant, and now I’m not.”

Last month, pregnant YET AGAIN at the dentist, I was asked this same question about my general health. This time I laughed, and I said, “it seems I’m on a schedule to get pregnant annually, so I tend to have the same issues every other time I come here! Still no living babies, but hopefully this time’s the charm!” I laughed, she laughed (uncomfortably) and then the moment passed. I didn’t want to go through the fake chit chat about me being pregnant before, so I led with the facts and a joke.

It turns out my Peer Counselor was right, people always ask about the rest of your family unit when you mention a pregnancy or appear pregnant. I’ve decided that in most scenarios, I am not going to say it’s my first. Usually when I think about the reasons I’d say that, it’s to save the listener from an awkward encounter; but it’s not awkward to me, it’s just my family. My feelings have definitely evolved over time, sharing here on the blog has helped me feel more comfortable sharing IRL. Hopefully I’ll have a living addition to the gang this summer, and he’ll be my second.

(Written at: 13 weeks, 6 days)