One thing I neglected to note on my to-do list for 2021: get pregnant.
That isn't to say it wasn't planned, just that it wasn't any of y'all's business at the time. Being a woman of a certain age, and having witnessed many loved ones struggle with fertility, I didn't necessarily know that 2021 would be the year of the bébé, but surprise, here we are! Twenty weeks pregnant, baby! Sorry blog, with all the other announcements, you get the sloppy-second, offhanded remarks. (Still loveee you!)
I never necessarily understood why people played it so close to the vest in the early months of pregnancy, why it was all so hush-hush until suddenly BAM they were SUPER preggers and ready to announce. And while I still think that knowledge is power, and we can all only benefit from sharing our experiences and learning together... I get it now. The missing piece for me had been the lack of understanding around just how risky those early weeks are. Given my age / physical factors, there was about a 20% chance of a miscarriage. TWENTY percent. ONE in FIVE.
Holy shit. That felt so, so high.
I had no idea miscarriages were that common. The concept blew my mind. Probably because this is one of many "women's issues" that doesn't get talked about as much (though these days, people tend to be more open) - which sucks, because it isn't just a woman's issue. It impacts family, friends, would-be-fathers, and the whole 'village' of people who would have loved that baby. It's a sad and scary thought.
"So, why the secrecy, Gina, if you are so adamant about people discussing these things?" you ask, rightly so. And, had something happened, I know I'd have needed my people. I know I'd have reached out, had talked to my loved ones in our closer circle. But you know, that's a controlled conversation.
If you put a pregnancy announcement out into the world, it ripples. The random woman at the grocery store your mom knew in high school suddenly knows that your womb is occupado. It's big news and people are excited. And people want to ask you about it when they see you. And what happens when you're out for a walk and suddenly someone asks about your baby that's no more? A happy query about the little life you lost? How do you react to that sucker punch to the heart? It feels like, it'd be a lot. Like, if it's someone you're close to checking in, it's comforting; but if it's an inquiry when your guard is down, it's a sob fest. I couldn't risk it.
And honestly, I kept a big set of walls up around my own heart, pumping blood for two, in that first trimester. The more you love something, the harder the loss, was my defense mechanism. I didn't think too much about it, didn't set too many plans in motion,* didn't let my mind wander and wonder about who this teeny creature might become. Mind you, I also didn't necessarily spend all those weeks feeling constantly afraid or worrying, I did my best to spend them blank. Uninvested. Almost detached.** And some of that remoteness has carried on into the second tri.
Yeah, I get that that makes me sound like a monster / bad mom, and as if I don't care, but I have a good reason: the thought police.
As a fairly high-strung person, I've spent years learning how to manage my anxieties, calm my mind, and mitigate the restlessness when it strikes. I've got my strategies for keeping everyone around me from thinking I'm a total nutter and/or off the rails. That doesn't mean my brain isn't still a hive of chaos, but you know, that I've figured out how to work and live in harmony with that. But now there is someone else in there, someone else who is directly impacted by that chaos. A mini person who shares my body and feelings. And gosh, I sure don't want to scare them.
So, I find myself dealing with a side effect of pregnancy that I hadn't thought about previously: keeping my chill so this wee one doesn't have to feel my worries. I knew having good physical health would be important, but I hadn't considered the massive importance of mental health. I want this womb to be a tranquil getaway, a place of peace and comfort, before our tiny human has to violently exit said womb and come join us in this frenzied world. And yes, sometimes I just have a wave of hormones and start sobbing for literally no reason, but beyond that, serenity is the absolute objective.
I'm certainly not at the point where I have this all figured out. I don't know the best way to keep a positive vibe internally 24/7 to keep this child in that zen mode. I know I am approaching this imperfectly and will have some major fluxes in anxiety that surely are the opposite of zen,*** but this has been a good perspective shift for me in the long run, too. If I think that my mental chaos isn't "good" for the baby, why would I think it's fine for myself? Because, while I'll surely adore this little spawn, it will only be dependent on me for a certain period of time. I am going to be with me literally til the end. So some of this care and energy that I'm so willing to funnel towards another, it's gonna need to come back to mama. Because mama matters. And right now, doing good for mama is also doing good for bébé. We're literally in this together, and we're going to tackle it with a calm AF smile.
Wish us luck.
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| Good vibes and ice cream only. |
* And now I feel completely behind on things lol damnnnnit.
** Even on the way to the twenty-week ultrasound, when my husband was just a bundle of excitement and joy, I felt just numb. Because I was terrified we'd get there and that the ultrasound would show no movement, no heartbeat, that something was wrong and I just didn't have the motherly instinct to know it. I couldn't get myself excited, because the more I thought about it, the more I worried. I even took a photo with my bump before we left for the appointment, just in case that was the last moment where our baby was in there. It was a pretty effed up thought, and as soon as I snapped the pic, I immediately shifted my brain back to blank. It was okay if I didn't feel joy, as long as I didn't feel scared as hell and sad. Blank was better... I don't tell this story to make everyone worry about my sanity, but because I'm sure I'm not the only woman who has ever felt this way. We're all just doing our best, and we're all doing okay.
*** Like, did the baby freak out when I woke up after having a nightmare last night?? Did my accelerated heart rate and panic cause that little floating fetus to bob about like "ahh what's happening" and now it's traumatized? How could I possibly even know?! Ahh.
