Dear Pepper is a monthly advice-column comic by Liana Finck. If you have questions for Pepper about how to act in difficult situations, please direct them to [email protected] Questions may be edited for brevity and clarity.
Dear Pepper,
In my first trimester of pregnancy, I kept the news a secret.
I️ didn’t like keeping it to myself, but was wary of going against convention and spreading the news too soon. My husband felt strongly that we shouldn’t tell people, because he was afraid that something would go wrong. I also felt pressure from society not to tell. I️ didn’t tell anyone at my workplace that I was pregnant for fear of being branded as an oversharer, or someone with poor judgment. Instead, I muddled through my work, family life, and social life, in a state of queasy half-sleep and hormonal anxiety, without offering an explanation or asking for support.
The reasons not to tell are sound—for some people. The first trimester is a tenuous time in which so many bad things are relatively likely to occur—miscarriage, scary test results. Some people might not want their third cousin (or even their best friend) to know if one of those things happened to them. However, I️ am not one of these people.
I told some friends about my “state” as the weeks dragged on, although I felt very guilty about it—like I was sneaking around behind the backs of my loved ones, and of the status quo. I️ swore everyone I told to secrecy—which felt hypocritical: I don’t like keeping secrets myself, and don’t want others to feel obligated to keep secrets on my behalf. But I️ didn’t want any of the clusters of people we were intentionally waiting to tell—my family, my husband’s family, our places of employment—to hear through the grapevine.
In fairness, it’s likely that the pandemic fed into my sense of isolation. I’m not sure that the secret-keeping would have been a problem during normal times.
Now that I’m in my second trimester, I’m feeling bewildered that I️ let myself be pushed into this unwanted silence. What would have happened if I’d acted differently—telling my (vaccinated) grandparents why I️ was falling asleep at Passover; betraying my husband’s feelings by explaining to his friends or family why I️ was ill at the (outdoor, socially distanced) barbecue; being honest with employers about why I was missing deadlines, instead of offering flimsy excuses.
Pepper, would I️ have been happier if I’d refused to keep this secret?
Sincerely,
Liana F.
Dear You,
As a dog, I️ often marvel at the human obsession with language—even more so since you all got the Internet, and have been in constant communication with dozens or hundreds or thousands of other humans, remotely, each day. I️ can never decide if language draws you closer to one another, or keeps you apart. I️ notice that humans touch each other much less than dogs do. You’re content to sit across from one another talking and talking, out loud, or on your phones.
Would talking about your state have helped you feel connected to others? I’m not sure. But I️ can see that talking about other things, and avoiding this subject, when this is the main thing on your mind and in your body, could be even more alienating than the normal state of affairs for a human.
I’m answering your letter a while after you sent it, so I’m guessing you’ve already told people about your pregnancy—and I hope you’re also not feeling as sick and lonely anymore. At this point, I ️would advise you—and take my advice with a grain of salt, since I’m a dog, and spayed—to tell everyone you want without feeling guilty. If you’d like, don’t tell people who emphatically don’t want to hear, but don’t bend over backward to keep them from finding out, either. The burden of keeping secrets should be on those who want the secrets kept, not on anyone else.
With warm pets and belly rubs,
Pepper
