When I first found out I was pregnant, I expected to feel excitement, awe, and a little bit of panic. I felt all of those things. But I didn’t realize that it would feel like an initiation: an invitation to the secret club of motherhood that I had always wanted to join. Almost immediately, a new world of information revealed itself: There were pregnancy apps to be downloaded and supplements to dig into and belly creams to buy and restricted food lists to memorize. My google searches cached quickly, and soon my feeds were full of mommy bloggers giving advice on how to manage first trimester nausea and videos on how to swaddle your newborn.
You’re supposed to temper your excitement in these early days. You’re carrying a life-altering secret–coupled with intense physical symptoms–but you’re not supposed to speak a word of it to anyone. I pride myself in being an open book and assumed I would struggle with this social pretense. Surprisingly, I didn’t. These early days felt sacred, and I kept our news close: A secret knowing that only me and my partner shared.
At exactly seven weeks I started cramping and bleeding. Google tried to convince me that what I was experiencing could be normal, but my intuition told me otherwise. I oscillated between pre-mourning and holding on tight, searching things like What do I do if I’m having a miscarriage? and is bleeding during pregnancy normal?
In between frantic WebMB searches, my pregnancy apps served me a notification that my baby was now the size of a blueberry.