I went back and forth about when to publicly share the news of my pregnancy. Right away? After the first trimester? Omar and I were well aware that not every pregnancy results in a baby, so how would we feel about sharing the news of a miscarriage, should one happen? (They’re incredibly common, after all.) Would we want the support of our entire online community, or want to grieve in private? How were we supposed to know what we’d want if we had never been through that before, anyway?
Omar left the decision up to me. I decided to wait until the “highest risk” period was over at 10 weeks, but I’m still not even sure it was the “right” choice. I can’t know what it would have felt like to share earlier and then go through announcing the loss of the pregnancy. My heart goes out to anyone who has had to make that announcement or go through that loss.
What happened is that we told both of our parents right when we found out at four weeks, as well as a few of our closest friends. Over the next six weeks until we announced to the rest of the world, a curious process unfolded within me.
I found myself only wanting to talk to the people in my life who knew I was pregnant - not even only about pregnancy stuff, about anything really, but just because I felt like I could be my whole self with them. I started spending more time on online pregnancy chat boards with women I didn’t know at all than any of the social media sites with people I know and love in real life.
I cut back from four blogs per month to two. My blog has always been a place for me to process what’s happening in my life and what I’m learning from it, so how could I honestly write about anything other than this, the biggest and most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me??
I even felt myself starting to pull back from work in general. Part of it was the exhaustion, emotions, and nausea of the first trimester that made working difficult, of course, but most of it was that I felt like I couldn’t be my full self there, for the first time ever.
So when we finally, finally announced on all platforms, I felt like I could take a deep breath for the first time in two months. It was a HUGE relief. This might seem silly to others, especially since we had already told several people. But I have a pretty big online presence and community compared to many, and it’s been built on my own transparency, authenticity, and vulnerability. To keep my mouth shut about something so huge was just painful.
And I realized that I’ve actually felt this pain before. This is the pain of not being fully myself in all areas of my life. This is what it once felt like to put big, important parts of myself on the shelf so I could “function” in a job and marriage that were both wrong for me. This is the pain I’ve watched my clients go through in similar life tug-of-wars. It is, in fact, the pain that drove me to start this Professional Wild Woman movement, helping women wake up to their true nature and access their full power and potential.
I’m not saying I was wrong for keeping my pregnancy to myself for the first ten weeks, only making an observation of what unfolded as a result. And I wonder if any of you feel this way in life right now - that there are big, important parts of yourself that you’re checking at the door as you walk into work, or church, or even home. Perhaps this is a good time to ask yourself why, and if it still serves to do so.
What type of wild woman are you?
Hello! I'm Melanie Munir, founder of Professional Wild Woman - a women's empowerment business dedicated to helping women who are tired of feeling either "too much" or "not enough" to connect to their inner wildness so they can create work that allows them the fullest expression of their unique voice. Welcome!