For anyone who is “trying” to get pregnant, passively or actively, there is an extra level of awareness regarding your alcohol consumption habits. For the average woman, for whom it takes three to six months to get pregnant, that mean three to six months of carefully curtailing her drinking (especially on the back half of the month as she awaits her pregnancy test results) and politely declining that extra cocktail when out with friends or colleagues. Then, she has another roughly three months (before she’s ready to share her news publicly) after viewing her positive pregnancy test to silently celebrate while avoiding social occasions wherever possible, so as to avoid the continuous confrontation and questioning as to why she is not drinking.
For the woman who spends multiple years trying to get pregnant or continuously getting pregnant and then miscarrying, this three to nine month period can multiply into roughly a thirty month period… or at least it did for me. It becomes a battle of whether to hide herself away from all drinking-related situations, to decline that glass of wine over and over while watching friends exchanging knowing glances “oh, she must be pregnant”, or to just say “screw it, I’m probably not pregnant this month anyway” and continue to imbibe when the situation calls for it.
Every pregnant woman you talk to has her tricks, some of which work and some of which are extremely obvious. But even when the latter, her friends are generally tactful enough to ignore the obvious questions, and wait the extra month or so until she will inevitably share her exciting news. One woman I spoke to used to go to work functions, and bring a bottle of grape juice out with her. She would carry her glass of red wine into the bathroom, pour it out, and re-enter the party with a glass of grape juice. Another friend would just swish her beer or wine around in her mouth, so it appeared that she was drinking, before spitting it out. And countless others would sit close to their spouse, who would then have the pleasure of drinking for two, while trying to keep it together.
All of these ideas can work in a group setting, or when you have a partner in crime to strategize with you. But I found that in the work world, especially in my work of marketing and advertising, there are more occasions to drink socially with colleagues than not. And many of these are intimate situations where you can’t just carry your drink into the bathroom.
I’ve also learned that for some reason, people get very uncomfortable when you choose not to drink with them in social situations. For example, at a former company I worked at, my husband and I attended a team-building event with my co-workers at a Cubs game. He and I were having a “dry August”, completely unrelated to childbearing, but just to get our bodies back to a healthy place. Anytime we declined a drink we were offered or said we were taking the month off from drinking, co-workers of all ages and levels in the organization were appalled.
“Come on, it’s a special occasion!” they would say. To which my inward response was, “I’m 30 years old, I live in a big city, and I don’t have any kids… Every night seems to be a ‘special occasion’ for a drink.”
I have memories of three particularly challenging social occasions in the work-world when I had to openly decline drinks. Each of these moments, I felt like all eyes were on me and like I was divulging a secret that I was really not prepared to share. I was not only trying to get pregnant but, in fact, was pregnant on all three of these occasions.
The first was in February of 2017. I had just found out I was pregnant- for the first time- confirmed with my doctor, a few weeks prior. I had been with my company for only six months, and we were attending an all Principal-level and above Strategic Analytics team summit in Miami. Now first of all, at that time there was the whole Zika virus scare in Miami… so I was already a little uncertain of this choice of venue. Of course, as part of an analytics team, I was one of few women to begin with. Then lets layer in the fact that this was senior leadership level only- that meant even fewer women, and you could count on one hand the number that were still of reasonable childbearing age. So I am certain that the choice of Miami and the presence of Zika were not even factored into consideration. Not ready to express why I was hesitant to attend this mandatory summit, I figured we would be inside the hotel conference center 90% of the time anyway, and I would dress modestly and do my best to fend off all mosquitoes in sight.
After the whole day of collaborating, listening to speakers, and learning about new team capabilities, it was time for team bonding and unwinding. We were all on the rooftop and everyone had a drink in hand. I was still getting to know my teammates and so, some liquid courage certainly wouldn’t have hurt me. But I ordered a club soda with lime, and figured all those drinking wouldn’t take any notice that there wasn’t vodka in my drink. Nor did they know me well enough yet to know that I would never be drinking a vodka soda in that type of team situation- I would be rocking an IPA. So that part was easy enough. But then we came to dinnertime, when we were all sitting at large tables together and one by one, everyone ordered a drink and poured the wine from the table into their glass. I can’t tell you if anyone really noticed my water glass sitting there alone while I casually claimed that I had had enough earlier, but I can tell you that I personally couldn’t stop noticing my lone glass for everyone else’s pair. To make the night even harder, I left the group at one point to go to the bathroom and there it was…. For the first time, but certainly not the last. The blood on my underwear. Just a little at this point, not enough to be sure if it was just a normal thing or if it was to become my first miscarriage. It wasn’t for another week or so that I knew for sure.
Fast forward a year later. Another winter, another new role at a new company, and another trip down to Miami for a conference that included many of the senior leaders in my new organization alongside our top clients. And yes, another pregnancy… my second. This time, I had known my co-workers for an even shorter amount of time. I had just began my new role in November 2017 and now it was January 2018. I remember going to dinner the first evening with one of our Vice Presidents of a key account and her clients, along with two other co-workers who I had barely met. This dinner was all about selling the clients on us as a team: on our chemistry, on my team’s unique measurement approach, on our partnership. Everyone ordered a glass of wine, and so I did too. I proceeded to sit there through dinner and occasionally pick up the wine glass and pretend to take small sips. Obviously, for anyone keeping track, by the end of dinner … my glass was still full. This woman who barely knew me even said out loud, “Michelle, you’ve barely touched your wine” and gave me a knowing look like “I’ve been there before.” Well, if she had been there before, I wasn’t sure why she – a woman with a few kids of her own- was calling me out in front of a group of other men and women. I just kind of shrugged and said that I wasn’t feeling that well. The next night, similar story. Out with a big group at a circular table and everyone with a drink in front of them but me. Luckily, it was a different group and so at least I could take solace in the fact that no one person was tracking and noticing my behaviors over time.
That baby didn’t survive the 10- week heartbeat doctor’s visit either.
Finally, it was the last week of August 2018. I was still at the same company in the same role. I had to travel to Philadelphia for a client pitch. I had teamed up with three other male colleagues, one (a close friend of mine) from my Chicago office, and two others from our London office. I had been working with them on the content for this pitch for about a month, but this was our first time meeting in person. Now, I had found out about a month previously that I was pregnant- for a third time. Then, I had experienced what I thought was my third miscarriage in mid-August (more about that later). Just days before this pitch I had visited my doctor and re-discovered that not only was I still pregnant, but that I had reached the 10-week heartbeat milestone successfully. So there were a lot of emotions running wild.
It was the night before the pitch and the four of us went to a local Philadelphia sports bar. The deck was ready to go, we had rehearsed for the pitch, and we felt ready. In celebration of our preparation to date and to toast the successful meeting we were anticipating, my friend ordered four beers.
“No, I’m good,” I said. “I’ve been at weddings every weekend this month and I have another this weekend here in Pennsylvania. I’ve just been doing a lot of drinking. My body needs a break.”
Of course, he called my bluff and heckled me in a way that only a friend can get away with.
“What are you talking about? Of course you are going to celebrate with us – I know you, you won’t turn down a beer!” He laughed.
There was only so much I could fight this without making a scene and so eventually I gave in and the four beers appeared on our table. We all toasted and everyone took a sip. Well, everyone except for me … who took a very fake sip. As dinner continued, everyone finished up their beers and went to order more. Unsurprisingly, they noticed that I hadn’t touched mine because, really, how do you hide it in a small group setting? And so, again after teasing me and giving me a hard time, they poured my beer into their glasses.
To be honest, I don’t remember the exact conversation that ensued at that point, but I do remember finally getting frustrated enough to my friend to say, “You know, you really can’t call someone out for not wanting to drink with you. Especially not a woman.”
When I got back to my hotel room that night, an apology text was waiting for me. My friend had told me that he was sorry that he had been so stupid, and that he hadn’t even thought about it. It was okay, I told him. But by now I was certain he had guessed my secret …. That I was pregnant. This was at a time when I was still high-risk and wasn’t ready to share with anyone other than my husband. Not my friends, not my family, and certainly not my co-workers. Luckily for me, that moment and that secret never left that sports bar, that is not until many months later when everyone knew the news of my pregnancy. But it felt for a moment like a bit of my privacy had been openly exposed in a workplace where I was trying so hard not to be vulnerable.
So when you come out to meet me for a drink after work and you say you just want water, believe me, I know your heart is racing as you wonder what kind of look you may or may not get. I understand that my beer probably looks pretty good to you (or maybe you are dealing with first trimester nausea and it really doesn’t!). And I know that if you haven’t shared your news yet, it means you aren’t ready to. And I respect that. I know this won’t make that moment any easier for you or make you feel less like you are on stage for all to see, but at least know that you aren’t alone in feeling that way.
Business and Babies 