A friend recently told me that she knows a woman pregnant with her first child who is struggling with guilt because she doesn’t enjoy being pregnant. The woman feels like a terrible person, and consequently, a terrible future mother.
I totally related to this stranger and wanted to give her a hug.
In my experience, I’ve felt pressured to enjoy pregnancy. I’ve felt the pressure to enjoy the beauty and the miracle and all that good stuff; and when I tell someone that I haven’t had the most Pinteresty experience, I normally get some sort of backlash and am left feeling like I’m failing.
Because some people don’t like honesty.
But fuck those people, right?
I threw up daily until I was 25 weeks pregnant. That means that over the past seven-ish months, I’ve had a lovely three-week grace period of not being overwhelmingly ill. If you tell me that’s beautiful and a miracle, I promise that I will want to throat punch you.
I love looking pregnant [compared to just questionably fat] but I’m not immune to waves of panic about my weight gain. A pregnant woman is a beautiful woman, she’s growing a life!, but if you tell me that stretch marks and not recognizing your own body in the mirror is beautiful and a miracle, I promise I’ll want to drop kick you.
Not being able to take a walk without feeling winded or feeling desperately fatigued even though you “slept” for 10 hours [which is a joke when you get up to pee every 2 hours] or being so uncomfortable all you can do is cry — that’s tough.
And if you experience these things [and more] it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person or that you will be a bad mother. It means you’re human, and that you’re growing another human, and that you admit it’s hard work.
I haven’t enjoyed every minute of being pregnant, but I cry happy tears every time I think about meeting this baby. I walk down the hall every day to peek into the nursery and imagine what it’ll be like to have a baby in there. I geek out every time I feel a massive kick to ribs, and even though it hurt, I want it to happen again so Cory can feel it. I’m putting my body through the wringer because I already have such an immense love for this tiny person I haven’t even met yet.
It’s those pieces that remind me that it’s okay if I [or you] don’t love this physical journey of creating a baby; because I know damn well when it’s all said and done, I’ll love the baby more than I could even possibly explain. And that’s the important part.