Pregnancy Pains for the Non-Pregnant

As I was checking to make sure I just had some sort of weird three-day excruciating-pain leg cramp, rather than a blood clot in my calf,* The Mister asked if blood clots were a real concern. I pointed out that pregnant women are about five times more likely to have a blood clot than non-pregnant women, and the rates for women who have just given birth are even higher**. The Mister replied, "Pregnancy can be really dangerous and painful, why don't people know this?"

When I suggested that this is known, he corrected that anyone who reads classic literature knows that women died in childbirth in the "old days", but modern pregnancy is more of a humorous inconvenience dominated by strange food cravings than a potentially lethal condition.

So, as my part of my mother's plan to talk about things that we don't talk about***, I offer some thoughts on pregnancy aimed not so much at my friends who might experience this in the near future, but at all of the non-pregnant folks who have to deal with the pregnant.

Pregnancies vary a lot. I've given up trying to commiserate with other pregnant women or women who have been pregnant because it seems sometimes there is nothing in common. Zits? Lovely glowing skin? Creative frenzy? Inability to do a thing? Raging sex drive? Recoiling from even a platonic touch? Super hunger? Aversion to all foodstuffs? Constipation? Diarrhea? I've known women who have had them all, and many who assume that her body's reaction is therefore the norm. Rutherford Robinia (current bun) is doing way different things to my body than Dianthus did, and I'm the same me and they have the same father.

"Morning Sickness" is misnamed. Of the many women I've talked to about early pregnancy queasiness, exactly one vomited regularly in the morning. One threw up twice a day for two months but felt fine and ate full meals immediately afterward. Another couldn't keep anything down anytime for six months. A few have had very specific vomit-triggers (usually a smell) that could occur at any time. Some, like my mother, just didn't feel like eating much and actually lost weight. Several were never much affected. With Dianthus I was frequently queasy, but rarely threw up. With R.R., for December and January, I was actively queasy most mornings and evenings and would have at least one wave of overwhelming "ick" at some point during the day. I threw up two or three times a week. I still can't handle uncooked poultry and many times the idea of cooking (but not eating) is repulsive.

Complications aren't uncommon. Besides the "normal" growing belly, super-sensitive boobs, and fatigue many women have something else going on. This pregnancy I have a subchorionic hematoma (also called subchorionic hemorrhage) which effectively means that I gushed blood for a few terrifying days in early January and then dripped old blood and some nasty clots for four weeks, but Rutherford is unaffected. Hopefully the blood is gone and nothing more will come of it, but there's nothing known to prevent reoccurring bleeding or to prevent it from leading to preterm labor. Subchorionic hematomas occur in 1-2% of pregnancies-- not a high rate, but given that over 4 million babies were born in the US last year, that's somewhere around 50,000 women with this condition last year. Hematomas certainly aren't the only or the worst complication: blood disorders, odd placement of baby, gestational diabetes, and preeclampsia are all more common, and all can lead to perfectly healthy babies. Just be aware that there's a real chance that the pregnant woman you're working with is taking daily shots, is on a super restricted diet, is bleeding, is aching or is worrying beyond the norm.

Heartbreak is a real possibility. Miscarriage and infertility are very different griefs, but both lead to a heartbreaking sense of loss. Since my miscarriage in 2007, I've become a big advocate for talking about miscarriage. Somewhere around one in five pregnancies ends in miscarriage, yet most parents grieve silently. When I told my colleagues about my miscarriage in 2007, I learned of ten miscarriages among the four women I worked with. While all four women have healthy grown children now, it still saddens me to know they endured that sort of pain (in one case, the pain included losing five babies without any mention of it at work and any support from her husband). While I was bleeding in January, thinking I was having a second miscarriage, I commented to a friend that I had thought that knowing the benefits: the wonder and joy a Dianthus can bring, would make the risk of heartbreak worth taking. At that moment I wasn't so sure.

So basically, I'm suggesting more conversation and more compassion. Nobody needs to know about every churn of somebody else's guts or track the trail of every tear, but I hope that the churning and crying aren't viewed as avoidable weaknesses and don't have to happen in lonely seclusion.

*No Mom, I don't have a blood clot. Yes, I actually went to the doctor and I had an ultrasound to confirm the absence. I didn't tell you about it because you'd just worry. Yes, I do take after some mother and grandmother I'm descended from.

**I'm not making this up, but I am too lazy to go find the source at the moment.

***At different times she's been a big advocate for open discussions about menopause, grief, colonoscopys, mammograms, and the like. Admittedly, she's never been big into discussing these things when they apply to her with me, because we don't do that in our family (see first footnote).