As I write this I am 36 weeks pregnant with my first child, Matthew. In typical duality fashion, this pregnancy has been both delightful and treacherous for me. The light and the shadow of a woman’s life seem to culminate in the condensed nine months of pregnancy, making her frightened and fearless at the same time.
In the beginning I was fearless because (I thought) I was ready. I knew I was pregnant almost immediately. I even knew he was a boy right away because he introduced himself to me in a dream. He appeared to be about twenty years old, and he was wearing a bright white robe. He also had a flame above his head like an angel. “I’m here to protect you Mom,” he told me in the kindest voice I had ever heard.
During the first trimester I didn’t have any morning sickness, even though there was some pretty bad nausea. Everything was going great until it was time for my full anatomy ultrasound at 21 weeks. Maurice and I found out that we were having a boy… and then we found out that he had a congenital heart condition.
It was like giving a child an ice cream cone and then slapping it out of his hand.
Maurice and I cried, prayed, and then did research… but we mostly cried. The research really helped to bring me some peace of mind. I looked up everything I could find on Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome, and felt better the following day. I walked into the doctor’s office later in the week and knew exactly what she was going to say.
I knew that I would be getting the best care in the city. I knew that my son was going to survive the surgeries and thrive in life. My initial terror was quelled, and my confidence was restored.
And then I learned that I had gestational diabetes, which required a low-carb diet, and 4 finger pricks a day for sugar level tracking. Whenever I check my sugars, I feel like my pancreas is glaring at me! It’s like she’s saying, “Yes I’m producing enough insulin bitch. I’m doing my job. Why are you micro-managing me?”
I’m also at a higher risk of developing full blown diabetes later due to family history; so this diet is for life.
The universe knows that I’m the kind of person that won’t change unless I have a significant reason to change. Getting pregnant was a pretty good reason to stop drinking; so now it looks like being healthy for my child is going to be the reason for permanently changing my diet.
I’ve also had to change my reclusive lifestyle to a more accessible and on-the-go lifestyle. Because this is a high risk pregnancy, the doctor’s appointments never end. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. I am constantly being monitored and examined.
I’m up to two appointments a week for monitoring and ultrasounds, plus once week visits to my OB/GYN, plus once a month visits for fetal echo ultrasounds. On top of that, they send me to the labor and delivery triage, or they ask me to come back to the office at least once a week after a monitoring if the baby is not responsive.
It’s a good thing I’m only a few minutes away from the hospital, but it’s still frustrating to have to go somewhere every day. I’m used to doing everything from home.
I can’t leave my phone on silent all day because I never know when I’m going to get a call about the baby. And trust me… this is a serious challenge for introverts!
But it’s all preparation for what Maurice and I will have to do once Matthew gets here. Everything is going to change and I’m gonna be busy as hell. Pediatric appointments and surgery follow-ups will soon turn into play dates and Saturday Little League practices.
We’ve even discussed the possibility of homeschooling so that our son can get the attention he’ll need, and benefit from having at least one parent with him at all times.
The life that I once knew is over. The sleeping in, the indulging in rich foods like chocolate cake, and the throwing back three glasses of wine a night are all over. And you know what? I’m so glad I indulged when I did! I’m so glad that I made the decision to become a mother after living a pretty full and honestly… selfish life.
As a single woman I traveled, took public transportation everywhere, ate fast food every day, and stayed up late shooting the shit with my friends.
When Maurice and I got married we still played video games, went to parties, and splurged on sexy vacations. We knew we weren’t ready for kids or home ownership. We didn’t even buy a car for two years.
It was like we were teenagers and I wouldn’t trade that time for a damn thing. We thoroughly enjoyed each other for seven years.
Then, on January 2nd, 2018, I found out that I was pregnant with my golden child, Matthew: a Leo baby.
My ego has done a wonderful job throughout this pregnancy: hardly any doubts or freak outs… but she’s made it pretty clear that she is indeed afraid because she’s never done this before. When your ego is an overachiever, being told to “hurry up and wait” for something that you have no control over is frightful.
She knows that life won’t be about her anymore and she’s fine with that, but she would still like to have a little bit of control. For most of my life, she’s needed at least 75% control over things to feel comfortable. After tons and tons of work throughout the years, I’ve gotten her down to needing about 10% control and that’s a fucking miracle.
I give her that 10% control by trying to be as prepared and on time as possible for everything, and getting at least one important thing done a day. If I’m not prepared, or I’m not on time, my ego freaks out. Procrastination especially makes her mad. And I really don’t blame her because she doesn’t ask for much these days.
I’ve explained this to Maurice so that he knows why I have these emotional outbursts over what seem to be nothing, and let me just say… I couldn’t ask for a better partner in life! I really hit the jackpot because not only does he listen to me when I’m upset, he adjusts to help me and meet my needs.
Today as I was lying down after an exhausting day of doctor’s appointments, I just felt the need to tell my ego, “You’re doing wonderful Sweetie. I’m so proud of you and I’ll do everything I can to help you.”
I try to be as kind to my ego as I can these days because she’s mourning her child-free life while preparing to be a full-time mother to a baby with a congenital heart condition, and she’s terrified. Telling her to count her blessings and to not worry is fine, but not enough.
We MUST acknowledge what pregnancy, childbirth, and motherhood does to a woman. It’s no joke and it’s a tough transition, no matter how physically fit or spiritually mature you think you are.
I’ve seriously learned how to give myself a break. If I worry about something it’s not necessarily because I lack faith, and if I get scared, it doesn’t always mean that I don’t count my blessings every day.
My ego is my friend, and I need to have compassion for her as she navigates this uncharted territory. Why wouldn’t I give that to myself?
I’d like to think that one day I’ll look back on my pregnancy and thank myself for my kindness. After all, courage isn’t the absence of fear. But courage is actually acknowledging that you are scared shitless and choosing to move forward anyway.
