BabyMama: I'd Like to Stay a Little Longer

Here we are, a four month hiatus since the last post. As ever, that comes with a lot of reasons (or excuses?), so let's jump right in.

Baby Talk is Difficult

While I've been actively posting about this pregnancy on the temporary space of Gram Stories, I've been light on the blog, FB, posts, etc. Because every. single. time. I go to put something up, I think about all the couples in my life who have a checkered past with fertility. Friends and family who have lost little ones before they could even hold them in their arms. Parents who went through the unthinkable moment of losing a child. Genuinely good people who have struggled down every road, chasing after the baby from their dreams. And I know that almost all those people, despite their tumultuous relationship with the reproductive cycle, want to celebrate and be happy for others - but that doesn't mean I don't feel like I'm still punching them in the gut with every bump pic. 

And those that are in a more difficult place, sometimes they just can't feel supportive, because their personal hurt is too great. That's where it gets into the "how dare you complain about a stretch mark or the pending nightmare of pushing a watermelon out your snatch, at least you're pregnant." As if your right to feel anything is negated by the fact that you should be so lucky to even be in the position you're in. There's an underlying judgment from those in pain - justifiable or not. But it does make me feel like, who am I to say something negative about this "miraculous" journey. I got pregnant when others are struggling; so just count those blessings and shush up.* 

Then comes the other element: I do not know what I'm talking about. This IS my first rodeo. And any time I say anything baby related at all, there is a barrage of well-meaning advice. Of people wanting to share their experiences. Sometimes just to connect, and sometimes to try and guide me in a different direction because they think I'm screwing it up. The latter sometimes makes me think, just don't say anything. It's easier.

All of the above is of course, in my head. And it shouldn't have stopped me from sharing, documenting, and just working through all this via words. But, it kinda did. And that's just how it went.

It's Not the Shiny Stuff

Most of what I want to hash out... it's kinda dark? Or at least, not so bubbly? Like, the mind-fuck of creating and carrying a human life inside your body and being solely responsible for its wellbeing for NINE months. Like, all the horrifying and strange things your hormones and body go through, the things other mothers don't seem to want to talk to you about until AFTER you're pregnant - at which point there is a flood of horror stories and things that can go awry that you're just suddenly treated to hearing about as you start to experience them (third tri carpal tunnel anyone??). Like, how your life and relationship to others in the world is literally never going to be the same, and it's always difficult to lament a loss of identity, but even more so when everyone keeps telling you it's the bee's knees and you're like "but so was my old life." 

This all jumps back to the "just glow, don't bitch" note above. But also, it's hard to talk through some of these difficult items without having a "yeah but look at this cute onesie" response. And I get that response, because if you think too hard on some of this, it's easy to spiral a bit. And that onesie is absolutely adorable. Not processing at all isn't the answer, though, but I'm not sure where the balance is. 

Which leads me to what I actually wanted to talk about... 

With all that in mind, the biggest thing that's been weighing on me is one of those things that people just don't say out loud. It's an unspeakable. I'm going to rabble about it a bit and I do NOT want a bunch of "reassurance" or "it'll be fine" messages after. That's not why I'm bringing it up. Despite my current hormone situation, I am a rational, intelligent woman, in possession of all the statistics in the world around this topic. I'm fully aware of the massive amount of privilege I have going into this, as a young-ish white woman in a good socio-economic situation; with access to all the proper facilities, doctors, and knowledge; in good health; with an awesome support system; etc. But, it's in my mind and it's not going away.

...

I will never forget a phone call I go in my early twenties, from my first close friend to have a baby. Friends had barely started getting married, let alone having babies, so this was totally new territory. And her biggest worry wasn't about being a mother, or even about the process of physically having a baby. She was worried about surviving the labor itself. That her husband would be left alone with their new baby, and she wouldn't be there. That this future they were building towards wouldn't include her. 

It was something I had literally never even considered. That sort of thing didn't happen in real life, it just happened offscreen to the moms in Disney movies. It couldn't happen, because all we ever talked about was the miracle of birth and yay baby, not the fact that the mother is going through a major physical trauma to bring that life into the world. 

But her fear was real. It wasn't invalid. Because it does happen. 

So here I am, with less than a month til my due date, "panic nesting" as I call it. Trying frantically to get everything organized, labelled, and ready. Walking through annoying details with my husband so he knows where things are, how to find everything. Attempting to get everything perfect, even if it's not stuff we'll "need right away." And when people try to talk to me about those early days with a newborn, and I hear the forever loop of "sleep when the baby sleeps," and advice about sleep training... most of it just bounces into a wall in my mind and falls into a box for later. Because there is definitely a wall there. The labor. The birth. And the underlying uncertainty that maybe... that's the end of the line.** Maybe all these preparations are what I'm leaving behind for my loved ones, to make sure things go smoothly if I'm not able to be there to help later. 

It's kind of an achy, awful feeling. I could write about it and explore it at great length, but I know it's a super uncomfortable thought, and I'm not sure the emo/philosophical path I'd go down would be helpful for anyone, so I'm not fully going to dive in on here...

And again, I know it is not a likelihood. I understand the odds. I get that I'm probably more likely to walk out and get hit by a car. That all doesn't matter. What matters is that... well, I'd like to stay a little longer, but I know it won't be entirely in my control. Being pregnant, you quickly figure out just how much is no longer in your control, and you sort of accept it, and figure out how to move forward with that awareness. So, I don't let this thought overwhelm me, and constantly weigh me down, but I carry it along with the other uncertainties and wonder how things will all play out. 

I sure hope that within the next month, we'll be at the point just past this. And I'll be on the 'good' side of those statistics. Settling into that 'new parents' phase that I haven't properly put thought towards yet. Where I'll be able to look down at that wee little life we created and say, "Hey, we made it. Now let's go figure this future out together." Because it's a future I'd really like to be a part of. 

<3

We've got this, wee bump.

*Granted, not everyone is happy to be pregnant - there are MANY complex situations, but in our case we're not unhappy about it. Also, I'm not diving into the other side of this - that some people realllllly could give a hoot about kids/babies. Which I absolutely understand, having lived a very happy childless life up to this point. It can also be frustrating to see a constant celebration around "traditional" life events like weddings and babies, when that is absolutely NOT the path many take. And it's annoying to not see other big successes (like, getting a promotion at work, or moving to a new city, or having a beautiful plant that you've kept alive through the winter, or finally finishing that binge of "Grey's Anatomy," etc.) being celebrated in the same way, because they truly are important. But, I could rant all day about that, and, my posts are already too damn long lol so just... know that I know what I'm not shining a light on and I'm sorry.

** Also, YES, I know how absolutely selfish this all sounds. Most moms are just worried about having a healthy baby, and I'm over here worrying about myself. But. I was here first. I know me. Wee bebe, I'm still getting to know. So yes, I'm selfish and I'm concerned about myself. I'm not saying I'm not also VERY much concerned about the wellness of this little one who I'm carrying. People are complex and can feel more than one thing, y'all - so let's not get judgey.