Let me start by saying a HUGE thank you to all the ladies who went out on a limb and shared similar stories on my post about early pregnancy weight gain. It is HARD being in this position. We have fought for years for a child. We have spent thousands of dollars to grow our families. We have dreamed of the day we could announce our pregnancies. We have meticulously crafted our birth plans even though there was not a positive pee stick in sight.
And now, after so much struggle, we have arrived: pregnancy at last! And what are we consumed by (in addition to sheer gratitude, of course)? The suffocating fear of change to our bodies. It’s bad enough we packed on 10 pounds or more from infertility treatment. Now we are just a few weeks into our new pregnancies and already we are using hair ties to button our pants or, worse, wandering into the Target maternity department and feeling like frauds. We stand shyly in checkout isles as a cashier rings up our stretchy pants and we panic – “What must this stranger think!?”
I have spent years dreaming of my child and preparing mentally for the trials and tribulations of parenthood. I have devoured parenting blogs learning tips and tricks from seasoned mothers of five or more. I am READY to parent. What I forgot about was the challenges pregnancy would bring. The uncertainty. The fear of changes to my body. The pains and smells. The fear of days when all feels right and, dare I say, normal.
In all my haste to have a baby I forgot to plan for pregnancy. Now here I am, standing alone, quaking in pants that are much too tight, worrying about the health of my body and the health of my baby. Fearful to take the leap into some comfy maternity clothes because SURELY such a bold action will “jinx” things.
Tomorrow I will be 10 weeks pregnant – something I never thought I would get to write. I’m terrified to purchase new clothing for fear that in a few more days Dr. B will gravely inform me that there is no longer a heartbeat. Then all I’d have were some stretchy pants, a bottle of Pinot Noir and a prescription for a D&C.
This entire pregnancy after infertility and loss is so fucking hard. I still don’t say “I’m pregnant.” Instead, when talking to the few that know, I say “my maybe pregnancy” or “if this pregnancy amounts to anything” or “I’m kind of pregnant.” Unlike my first pregnancy, I don’t talk to this baby. Every time the alarm sounds reminding me it is time for another dose of estrogen I don’t cheerfully think to myself, “Time to feed baby!” as I did with Pip. I only rub my belly when I’m massaging gas pains. I just don’t feel connected to this baby or the changes in my body.
It is like I finally get my navy blue El Camino (yeah, I dream of owning an El Camino, don’t judge) but I’m always the passenger and never the driver. It just does not feel like my body, or my baby, is mine. It’s weird and it is hard and I KNOW that to my fertile friends I look so harsh and ungrateful. But I’m not. I’m just scared shitless by the changes and the risks.
And so I guess I’ll continue on planning to embrace my “potential pregnancy” tomorrow.Tomorrow I’ll buy clothing that fits. Tomorrow I’ll talk to the Chicken. Tomorrow.