Broken Silence

 Originally Published Dec. 2012

“Shhhh….. don’t tell mom.  Shhh… don’t tell dad.”  How many times did we hear that from a sibling as we were growing up?  But, how many times did you hear, “shhh…. don’t tell your brother or shhh….. don’t tell your sister?”  

I think the first time I was asked to keep a secret was when I learned about Santa Claus.  I don’t remember the exact words in which I learned “the truth.”  I just remember standing in the kitchen of our home at the time.  My mom told me that she wanted me to join my older brother in keeping the secret from my little sister for at least a couple of years until she was old enough to know.  To entice me to keep up the pretence that Santa was alive and would always give gifts to good little boys and girls, my mom said that as long as I didn’t tell Joanne, Santa would continue to bring gifts to me, too.  Of course, I went along with this little “deal” and to this date, I have not broken my promise to my mom to tell Joanne about Santa Claus.

And, now that I am a grandmother, I find it kind of fun to keep secrets from my own children – Dean and Timmy’s mom and Johan’s dad.  Little secrets such as letting them have a sugary snack before bedtime, staying up late when I’m babysitting, or eating in front of the TV instead of the kitchen table are all harmless and certainly not life-threatening acts of defiance that I share with my grandkids.  I just say, “shhhh…. Don’t tell your mom or dad.”  My reasoning is:  My house, my rules!  I love to see them giggle when we conspire to pull one over on their mom or dad – like when we slip them a quarter so they can go to the gum ball machine a second time.

But, what does one do when asked to keep a secret or a promise not to tell and it’s MAJOR?  Like life-threatening MAJOR?  Do you break your promise not to tell?  I’d like to tell you this true story:

A drug called DES was widely used in the United States, Europe and elsewhere from the 1940s through the 1960s to prevent miscarriage, premature birth, bleeding and other problems.  

Studies later showed it didn't work.  In 1971, the government told doctors to stop using it in pregnancy, after DES daughters in their child-bearing years were found to be at higher risk of a rare form of vaginal cancer.  Further research has tied DES to infertility and various pregnancy problems.

When the news broke about the drug, my mom called me and confided that because of all the trouble she had giving birth to me, her doctor gave her the DES drug when she was pregnant with my sister, Joanne.  And for reasons she did not really share with me, mom told me… not Joanne.  Knowing my mom, who always blamed herself for anything that went wrong, I’m sure she reasoned that somehow, she should have known in advance that something bad would come from taking it….. even though her doctor had prescribed the drug so mom could carry Joanne full term.

She told me that if she died, I could tell Joanne…. but, not before.  I think she just felt so horrible that she could be the cause of Joanne possibly getting cancer that she just couldn’t face it.  But, she wanted it known – just in case Joanne did get sick and mom wasn’t alive to tell her the facts.  It would then be up to me to fill her in.

Of course, this did not make sense to me.  I fretted for days about agreeing to keep that secret from my sister.  I knew Joanne wouldn’t blame mom.  But, I also knew that Joanne should be made aware of the fact that she was, indeed, a DES daughter and should go to her gynecologist for testing and to have that fact noted in her medical history.

After much thought and prayer, I broke the silent pact I made with my mom.  I told Joanne.  In doing so, however, I made another silent pact with Joanne.  And, that was to “not tell mom that I told you.”   To me, it was a “win-win” situation.  Mom didn’t have to face a difficult discussion she was unable to handle herself and Joanne got the medical care and monitoring she needed to stay healthy.

Silence may be golden; but, at times, silence must be broken.