Back to "the" question. I used to ask the same thing, and often. It wasn't until November, when I saw those lines on a little plastic stick that I resolved to never ask it again. You just never know where people are in the process. It's all so tenuous — people just need to be allowed to share when they want to share. It's joyful, but also frightening. Or if you're having trouble conceiving, terribly sad. Or if you've just lost a baby, even sadder. It's just never a good question to ask.
There were etiquette things I didn't know about miscarriage. Medical things. Emotional things. Spiritual things. There were many things I learned. It changed my life.
Helpful hint: if you miscarry, it's important to know what your blood type is, so find out now. It's complicated, but if your blood is Rh- (negative), and your partner's blood type is positive, it's possible that your baby could have a positive blood type. In this case, it's also possible that your body will attack that pregnancy, because the pregnancy is an "invader." This makes it harder to conceive and sustain pregnancy in the future. It only works this one way — if your blood type is Rh+ (positive), it's not a problem. If your partner and you both are negative, it's also not a problem.
Lucky me, my blood type is negative, and Dave's is positive, so it was unknown but possible that our baby could have had a positive blood type. But there's a "cure," if you will. It's a shot of treated blood called Rhogam. You get it in the booty (yay), and it has to be administered within 72 hours of miscarriage. I made it in the window, and my oh-so-wonderful, caring midwife ensured that I did. So thankful for her.
Side note, I'm not a medical person, so if you want to read about this for real, check here.
On the subject of midwives... I am going to get a little opinionated here. Forgive me. When I found out I was pregnant, I called my normal OB/GYN office immediately (maybe the next day). I've never been pregnant before — I needed some info! Exactly how much broccoli and kale should I be eating so that my baby will go to Harvard one day? Which books should I be reading? What prenatal vitamins should I take? How many bourbons can I have after dinner tonight? Kidding. But seriously — what do I know?
I called, and they blew me off. "Oh, we won't need to see you until you're at least 8 or 10 weeks along." Right. Okay, when's that? "Here's your appointment three weeks from now — see you then."
Zero instruction about anything at all. No vitamins. No books. No diet. No exercise. No prohibition of alcohol or cigarettes. They should assume I'm a brainless bimbo, right? Shouldn't they warn me about SOMETHING?
I hung up and thought of other options. I have many friends who have seen midwives for their pregnancies, or are midwives themselves. I found a few offices in the area and scheduled my appointments. All the midwives I spoke with were so friendly, and so congratulatory. They agreed to see me as soon as they could — my appointments fell a few weeks later, but only because their schedules were already full, not because they put me off because it was "unnecessary" to come in earlier. Thank God for midwives.
When I suspected I might be miscarrying, I called both midwives back, and both were extremely prompt in their follow up with me. They expressed so much concern and empathy, along with the appropriate medical urgency. I was urged to come in immediately so that I could be examined and we could find out about my blood type.