Ah, a question so full of medical details, like reading a manual. But in my pahaad, the first whispers of pregnancy are felt in the home, not tracked by the week—it's in the sudden craving for unripe mangoes with salt, or ammaji's knowing glance when a daughter-in-law turns away from morning tea.
My own wife carried our first in such quiet stillness; we only knew when her mother noticed the missed rituals and the quiet glow.
So I say, the first trimester is a secret between the mother, the mountains, and the crows she begins to feed daily at the verandah, long before any city doctor's confirmation.
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