I did it. Well, I don’t know how much of it was necessarily me or just luck. Maybe it’s fate or simple biology. Who knows, not me. My body did it. And I’m thankful.
It held on to a little baby seed. The little zygote that could.
After miscarriages, periods, doubts, fear, and time (seemed like forever – in real life it probably wasn’t), I finally got pregnant. From the second I became pregnant, I knew it. Not in a loving “mama could sense it” way but in a “sick from day one” way. My body let me in on the secret. A secret to be shared with the porcelain god and anyone within earshot. I am definitely “lucky” I was unemployed at the time because there wouldn’t have been a chance I could keep it from my coworkers or employer.
It hasn’t been easy so far but I’m not complaining (shut up, Doug). The sickness was unbearable for the first three months but it’s always sort of a relief to know that the baby is really thriving in there. I finally stopped acting like the hero I’m not, once I reached month 4 I got a prescription for Diclectin. I feel mostly like me again! Praise modern medicine!
I’ve been trying to keep my head straight this time around and enjoy all the moments I’m able to, should the present pregnant moment be my last pregnant moment. I’m not anticipating a disruptive and terrible end. I’m just not wasting my time worrying every single second of every day that something has could go wrong and instead embracing the time that I’m given.
When I was pregnant with my first, I spent every moment in my head. Freaking out. Overthinking everything. (That’s my ‘thing’- did I tell you I’m obsessed a sinkhole will open up under my house? I digress). Did we have enough “stuff”? Did I prepare enough? Am I taking the right vitamins? Am I eating enough “good” food? How can I be a new mom and a stepmom? My incessant and stressful worrying led me back down the path of depression I’d fought so hard to get out of in my teens and 20s. I spent the final months leading up to my son’s birth attending mental health counseling and feeling like I was in the dark despite the brightness and blessings of my life around me. My son’s first year found me struggling through a postpartum depression (PPD) haze, doubting my happiness and indulging in stress. It took me an additional half year or so to realize I even had PPD and had developed some unhealthy coping skills to manage it (first I was spending money I didn’t have, later I was drinking more wine than I cared to admit). I’ve made the decision that, with this pregnancy, I’d try to let go of those things I can’t control and embrace the moments along the way.
So, bring on the fun pregnancy photos in the snow. I might even do a maternity shoot this time! I’ll definitely be writing about my experiences a lot more, even if it’s just for my own eyes. Every day is not the same and I definitely have to remind myself to chill out and stay present. For example, I may have freaked out a little bit before my last ultrasound after reading a few stories about children born with 2 heads or imagining there was an alien baby in there. But I didn’t fall down the spiral. I saw it up ahead and spoke to my partner and the ultrasound technician about my concerns. That particular spiral is safely in the rearview for now. The world is safe, there is no Decepticon in my womb. That would have been cool though, right?
I’ve begun month six and my baby is on track and my health is good – so far, this path is definitely less rocky than the last. I haven’t set up a single thing, purchased anything (we’re hoarders so we do have tons from the other two kids) and have yet to be consistent in taking my vitamins. What I lack in pill form, I make up for in trips to the refrigerator. The bathroom scale can attest to it.
I’m just human. No path is the same as another, nothing is perfect and no one knows exactly what to do or what they’re doing. It’s better to accept those imperfections as best you and I can and move forward rather than try to pretend they don’t exist. Trust me on that one.