The first time I was pregnant, I had so much to process. Everything was happening for the first time and I was the first one going through it in my circle of friends and similar aged family. I found myself pregnant with thought. Pun intended.
I have been quieter the second time around. This time, I have reflected more and generally piped down. Also I was busy-like really busy and something else happened. I started to receive praise, both from people I know and people I have never met. Seemingly kind and encouraging remarks made me shut my mouth about how I really felt, put my head down, and keep going.
In the first few months, I was frequently doted on about my size. "You're so small!" "You have no belly at all!" "I hope I look like you when I am four months pregnant!" And what do you say to that? Well I sure couldn't say, "Actually, I am fucking terrified. I keep losing weight. I feel discouraged because when I look at my body I can't see the baby that I am carrying. I feel like it could slip away and no one would ever know it was there. Standing up makes me feel so tired that I feel like a strong wind could turn me into sand and I'll blow away, lost in the breeze forever." But that is what I desperately wanted to cry out to them. Instead, I smiled awkwardly and tried to change the subject.
As months passed and my body grew, people shifted their words of affirmation to the way I was getting by. "You have it all together." "You are so calm." "I don't know how you balance work, grad school, parenting, etc.." And again. I would smile, thank them and squish the screaming thoughts in my head. "TOGETHER!? TOGETHER!? I am literally alive because of Jimmy Dean frozen breakfast sandwiches. I have stretchmarks, hemorrhoids, varicose veins, and heartburn. There is a human shoved so tight in my ribs that I haven't had a deep breath since October. My nose bleeds. My gums bleed. And sometimes I pass gas involuntarily because a baby squashes my intestines."
Each time I would begin to let the levee break, I would think of my friend with MS who had the rockiest pregnancy I have ever witnessed. I would think of my friend who has carried multiple children that she will not meet in this lifetime. I would think of my grandma milking cows hours after her water broke. These are the kind of people I know-women of incredible strength and courage. And yet I know that I could have said something at anytime to these brave ladies and they would have listened, but I couldn't. I still don't feel like I have the right. (see multiple posts about stupid anxiety disorder...)
So what happens then? My husband finds me sobbing in the bathtub two days before my due date. On this occasion, the house was unusually messy, which stressed me out and gave me a nice gateway to CryTown. Once I cried about the crusty crockpot that I would deal with later, I looked at the 2/3 of body that was sticking out of the water and I let myself think all the things I had been stifling. When my husband came in, I blathered about my weird body, about trying to finish my research to graduate in May, about my job, about the unready nursery, and about a bazillion other things. When I finally said all the things I could think of and stopped to blow my nose (still in the tub), I felt the breath of release. My husband picked up my gushing face and confirmed that we would fine, that we love each other, and that this baby will be here soon. And today I believe each of those statements, I just wish I hadn't waited 40 weeks to hear them.
