Pregnancy has been a huge lesson for me in letting go and having faith. There is so little I have control over and for a planner like me, I had a hard time adjusting.
I stared at the positive pregnancy test in total disbelief and then yelled for Steve from the bathroom. We jumped up and down in pure excitement.
Then the anxiety rushed in. I immediately started thinking about all the things I shouldn’t have done over the past several weeks while our precious embryo came to life.
My two matcha lattes a day. The x-rays at the dentist’s office. The cigarette smoke I walked through. The mouthguard I wore at night. The hot yoga classes. The list goes on.
Before I got pregnant, I remember thinking that I would only eat healthy and organic. I wanted my baby to have the very best. I laugh now about how naive and judgmental that thought was.
I braced myself for the nausea and like clockwork, I started feeling nauseated the week after we found out we were pregnant. And the only things that made me feel better: bread and cheese. Oh, the irony of thinking I could stick to a healthy diet during my entire pregnancy.
Ginger, kale, mushrooms. I couldn’t stand the sight or smell of them. I ate loads of them before getting pregnant and now just the thought of them made me want to hurl. I remember ordering a side of kale at a restaurant with the hopes of taking a few bites since I hadn’t eaten greens in a while. When it arrived at the table, it made me feel so sick that I had Steve eat all of it as fast as he could just so I didn’t have to look at it anymore. What. Was. Happening.
I couldn’t believe it. I had heard stories like mine and laughed about them, fascinated and slightly doubtful that nausea could be that bad. Oh, it’s bad and I had to experience it to finally understand the tragedy of wanting to eat something but have it completely disgust me at the same time. To feel nausea every day and have the only things that make me feel better be the things I know I shouldn’t eat. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
But, I know I’m one of the lucky ones. My nausea started to subside around Week 9.
When the nausea kicked in, I was angry. You’re telling me I have to work full-time, grow a baby, fight nausea, AND try not to tell anyone for the first few months lest I miscarry? Nothing is fair about pregnancy. The fear, anxiety, and stress is a lot to bear. Not to mention my body is changing, my hormones are all over the place, and I feel exhausted most of the time.
Late one evening, I was on my bus ride home, reflecting on my workday. I was about nine weeks pregnant at the time. A day full of back-to-back meetings with an extra side of a long commute. I needed breaks in between my meetings (in reality I needed naps in between meetings). I felt like my brain wasn’t functioning at full capacity and I couldn’t give it the rest it needed. Instead, I was expected to be alert and engaged the entire day. I felt frustrated, sad, and guilty that I couldn’t be my best self.
Then, a thought crossed my mind, “Um, hello! I’m growing a baby!” I had to be kinder to myself. The expectations of me at work may not have changed but the expectations I had about how and when I take care of myself could.
My second trimester was more enjoyable. These few months were full of special milestones. We shared the pregnancy news with our families, close colleagues, and friends. Though as soon as we started sharing the news, a small part of me felt sad about it. The baby was no longer our little secret.
At Week 20, we found out we were having a BOY. For me, the gender reveal was the most exciting part of the pregnancy. I was convinced we were having a girl, and we even had a name picked out. Our ultrasound technician saved the reveal until the end of the appointment and when she confirmed we were having a boy, Steve sat next to me jaw-dropped and I immediately teared up. One minute we’re in complete shock and the next, we’re filled with overwhelming excitement. It was the biggest surprise of our lives.
The following week, I felt the baby kick for the first time. Being pregnant has been both a magical and terrifying experience, and I don’t hear about the terrifying part enough. As soon as the baby was conceived, I felt like it was us against the world. I worried about consuming caffeine, deli meat, raw vegetables, fish with high mercury content, tap water, and artificial food coloring. I worried about breathing in car and truck exhaust, going through body scanners at airports, taking baths, and wearing jeans that were too tight. Choices I made throughout the day became a game of “pick my poison”. And, those were the things I tried to control. In the back of my mind, I thought about the chances of a miscarriage, of genetic defects, of a stillbirth. The things I couldn’t control but nonetheless worried about. Whether or not my fears were rational, I was (and still am) scared. But to stay sane, I had to learn to stay positive and have faith that everything will be okay.
That is to say, the little kicks I felt (and still feel) are my main reassurance. I like to think they are his way of telling me that he’s all right in there.
Despite my fears and the minor discomfort of not being able to bend over and put on my own shoes in Week 34, pregnancy hasn’t been all that bad. My hair has never been thicker, my skin never clearer, and I’m thoroughly enjoying foods I would normally restrict myself from eating. There’s also something incredibly liberating about intentionally growing my belly. I’ve spent most of life sucking in my stomach so I could fit into skinny jeans, look thinner in photos, and feel a tiny bit more comfortable in a bikini. For the first time ever, I don’t have to think about that. I’m proudly growing and showing off my big belly.
As we head into the final weeks, I’m absolutely terrified of the labor and delivery. I’m worried I won’t be a good mom. I still worry about a lot of things. I’m told my thoughts are normal. But if the past eight months have taught me anything, it’s that thoughts come and go. And even if most of them are scary, it’s the positive ones I need to hold on to.
Pregnancy tips that really helped me:
When I was nauseated, carbs were my best friend. I also found that not letting myself get hungry helped me manage the nausea. During the day, I ate a little something every hour or so.
Despite wanting to lay in bed all day, exercise did help me throughout my entire pregnancy. In the first trimester, it helped keep the nausea at bay. In the second and third trimesters, it helped me feel strong and fit.
Night hunger is real. I keep crackers on my nightstand for when I wake up in the middle of the night starving.