Today I’m 35 weeks and four days pregnant. It feels like yesterday when I discovered I was just 6 weeks this journey.
I guess it took me a while, a lonnnngggg while, to comprehend it. The fact that I was actually pregnant. Every woman goes through a myriad of emotions throughout her pregnancy, just as each has a unique experience of pregnancy itself.
When I told people, their response was usually the same - “you must be so excited!” “boy or girl?” and “You must be thrilled!” But honestly, I wasn’t sure how to feel for a long time . It was surreal. All I knew was that I couldn’t find the words to express how I felt.
When I finally acknowledged why I was experiencing these mixed emotions and why I wasn’t in a ‘Hollywood-style happiness bubble of baby’ - I realised I never believed I’d actually get pregnant. Or be blessed with the experience of carrying another life into the world.
During these congratulatory chats, I was tempted to say to people, yes I’m unbelievably happy somewhere deep down - overwhelming scared. Scared that this pregnancy will see me regressing to helpless, dependent patient-mode. I imagined constant bouts of illness, dreaded seizures putting the baby at risk (so far, one tonic-clonic seizure at around 20 weeks…devastating, but the bebe was absolutely fine), dangerous falls as my bump grew and returning to life in a wheelchair because my right-sided paralysis and lack of balance would become more apparent month by month. And I haven’t even started on the stroke fatigue, epilepsy medication side-effects or not-being-able-to-take-strong-painkillers for my chronic pain.
Yep, I know. What a positive mindset!
You might be thinking, wouldn’t she have thought about all these potentially before getting pregnant? Well, I’ll preface this next sentence with: I know an unbelievable amount of young women struggle with fertility these days, unfortunately it’s more common than not. One in 25 Australian babies are now born via IVF or one in every classroom (https://bit.ly/2uoH7jK).
So, when we got pregnant, within a few weeks, we realised how fortunate we were. I assumed that I’d be one of those statistics. I guess I’d secretly resigned myself to the fact that being able to carry a child, without massive complications, was unachievable. This belief, in part, was thanks to doctors back in the early days of my recovery who expressed doubt over the future possibility of me as ‘mother material’.
When, for so long, your body has been a source of grief, frustration, disappointment, pain and misery you never expect it to do the opposite - bring you such joy. So far, it’s been a relatively easy ride. Just the usual aches and pains, exhaustion and general discomfort. No morning sickness! Praise be.
Aside from medical professionals, your self-belief can wane when a few friends have also assumed I’d never consider becoming (or trying to) a mother. Innocently dropping casual remarks like “lucky you’ve got so many things in your life you love doing with Gareth, like travel. Not everyone has to have kids.”
I don’t blame people for these types of comments, it’s simply because they just don’t know and sometimes people think it’s safer to stick with their assumptions, rather than having an awkward conversation and asking the question. Trust me, asking questions and getting correct answers is always better.
I guess it all changed when the little baby bump started taking shape. The anxiety and fear have dissipated. Now it’s pure, joyful anticipation. I think when my obstetrician says the words “It’s a…!” (boy or girl) will be the most exciting moment of our lives. That, and when our little miracle is placed on my chest.
To be continued…
