Morning sickness was a dead give-away.
I didn’t mean to tell my boss I was pregnant. But it went like this: I found out I was pregnant, then I fainted and cracked my face open, requiring a trip to the emergency room and stitches. Not only did I need time off from work to repair the damage, but I had a nice fancy gash in my chin when I returned. Needless to say, there were lots of questions.
I tried to be evasive—after all, I was just getting used to the news myself. I hadn’t even told my own mother. My co-workers were nice and all, but it wasn’t really their business. So when they asked what happened, I simply chalked it up to a blood-sugar problem, and said I was lightheaded.
Then the morning sickness started. Suddenly I had to account for trips to the bathroom every 20 minutes to vomit. People noticed, and began to whisper. A few asked me point-blank if I was pregnant. I told them I was not.
Next the rumors began, since the only other explanation for the sickness and stitches were that I’m a drunken lush. They assumed I was constantly hung over, and that I must have been drunk when I’d fallen and needed stitches. This was not doing much for my work image, so I finally decided to come clean.
Though I wish I could have kept the news between me and family members, at least for a while longer, it helped in the long run that I shared it with my boss. She was pleased to make accommodations for my morning sickness, and offered flex hours. Co-workers were no longer annoyed if I was missing for long moments at a time. And though I wasn’t ready for the irritating list of questions (Do you want a boy or a girl? Are you moving to a bigger place? Do you want a natural birth?) or the frustrating deluge of unsolicited advice (Eat oranges. Don’t eat oranges.), at least it was better than being considered the office drunk.
But only a little.
Wondering when to tell your boss the good news? Never fear, I’ve written an article for you. Don’t you love me? You do. Admit it.
