I have a friend who is a doctor and she shares snippets of her daily life- the trials and tribulations of a resident physician, her patients and the lessons about life she learns. Some stories are beautiful and uplifting. Some make me cry. Some make me cringe. All are insightful.
Recently she wrote of a meeting of providers- discussing their patients’ cases and one of them, an oncologist was distracted because he had recently learned of his mother’s breast cancer. He had trouble focusing on the meeting because he knew better than anyone what the diagnosis meant for his mother and his family.
“Because sometimes knowledge is power and sometimes knowledge is pain.”
This was me, my entire pregnancy with Mabel. I had a week before my first ultrasound where I assumed everything would be okay. Until there was no heartbeat and we thought I had a blighted ovum. Seeing a heartbeat a week later, confirmed a viable pregnancy but I spent the rest of the first trimester knowing what it felt like to miscarry and worried I’d be feeling that way again. Though I told my family I was pregnant before my genetic testing, I asked them not to share the news until we got the results, because even though I had no risk factors, I knew it could still happen to me. When I learned Mabel had Down Syndrome, I decided to accept the diagnosis, but it wasn’t simply recognizing I’d be raising a child with special needs. It was also recognizing that I might not be- I was all too familiar with the risk of miscarriage and stillbirth with the diagnosis (ironically, I wasn’t thinking about neonatal loss). When we were told her kidneys weren’t working, she had no fluid and if she were even to be born alive, her lungs would likely be too small to sustain her life, I had some hope, because what mother doesn’t? But I also knew. I’ve told people myself when there is no fluid at early gestation that their baby will die. I knew.
Yes, sometimes knowledge is power. I was able to research and make my own educated and informed decisions about my body and my baby. But knowledge was also pain for me. I never enjoyed my pregnancy like I should have, like I wished I did; it was too tainted with worry.
I’m sure those of you out there who have had a pregnancy after loss also know that knowledge is pain. There are some of you who may have learned that lesson with your first pregnancy, like me.
Is knowledge power? Is knowledge pain? What is your experience?