When Adam and I finally unveiled our pregnancy, we were greeted with a lot of love and support. But, for every congratulatory hug and warm, happy phone call, there was an urgent, whispered aside from someone who had been pregnant before.
In a few short weeks, I heard just about everything--and in graphic detail. Morning sickness and salmonella at the same time. Moms who went into premature labor and didn't realize it. Women who delivered in their bathrooms. Twelve-pound babies who tore their mothers apart on their way into this world. I was horrified.
Adam eventually forbade me from reading pregnancy forums and carefully shielded me from wiser moms who tried to take me aside for a private chat.
I didn't realize that becoming pregnant would grant me membership to the exclusive club of women who have been pregnant. And the initiation ritual is to listen to every other woman's pregnancy horror stories.
Pregnancy is such a strange thing. It's a basic biological function of womankind, but it is still somehow secret, and sacred. And getting pregnant is like becoming part of an intimate sororal group to which any woman can be invited.
Over the past few months, I've come to appreciate that secret sorority and its instant intimacy--warts and all. I appreciate the frankness and openness with which that group of women has greeted me. I've even told a few horror stories of my own to new moms. And, lets face it, I've started a blog about pregnancy with the same basic impulse to share.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
#8. You Can't Be Pregnant by Yourself
I said yesterday that there is no such thing as "your" pregnancy. I'd like to add a caveat. There is no reason you would want a pregnancy to be "your" pregnancy. A one-woman-show pregnancy isn't even possible.
I'm a do-it-yourself kind of person. I hate accepting help from other people. And I hate asking for help even more. In my early pregnancy, I tried very hard to make it to work on time every day, to keep cooking for my husband, and to keep my vomiting a secret--even from Adam.
But as time wore on and my pregnancy symptoms got worse, I just couldn't do it any more. Many mornings, I had to spend way too much time in the bathroom to make it to work on time. I couldn't eat a bite of anything I smelled as it cooked. And sitting on the bathroom floor crying by myself was just too depressing.
Help arrived. And I didn't even have to ask for it.
Before I knew it, my early morning classes were getting covered. My ninth- and tenth-grade homeroom students even took their own attendance and ran their own prayer session! Food started appearing out of nowhere from friends and co-workers. And Adam talked me into leaving the bathroom door open so he could come running when he heard the tale-tell sounds of sickness.
Now, five months into the pregnancy, I've learned that I really do have to depend on other people. Pregnant women aren't as helpless as some people think we are, but there are some things I just can't do. Adam and I are moving into a new home tomorrow. I can't smell the chemicals required to scour the oven. I can really navigate around the piles of boxes in our living room with my growing belly. And I don't have the stamina to pack for hours on end without many, many breaks.
Just like in the first trimester, help has materialized. My mother came up and helped clean our apartment--several friends have volunteered to finish the job on Sunday. My in-laws came up for a friendly visit and ended up packing a huge number of our belongings. Friends volunteered their time to stuff our dishes and books into boxes.
There are those who question whether it is responsible to bring a child into a world with so much suffering. I suppose they may have a point. But I, for one, am happy to be introducing a new person into the warm, charitable, generous community and family by which Adam and I are lucky to be surrounded.
Without Adam, I wouldn't have made it through the first trimester. Without our friends and family, we wouldn't be moving into a wonderful new house with plenty of room for the baby.
There is no way I could be pregnant by myself.
I'm a do-it-yourself kind of person. I hate accepting help from other people. And I hate asking for help even more. In my early pregnancy, I tried very hard to make it to work on time every day, to keep cooking for my husband, and to keep my vomiting a secret--even from Adam.
But as time wore on and my pregnancy symptoms got worse, I just couldn't do it any more. Many mornings, I had to spend way too much time in the bathroom to make it to work on time. I couldn't eat a bite of anything I smelled as it cooked. And sitting on the bathroom floor crying by myself was just too depressing.
Help arrived. And I didn't even have to ask for it.
Before I knew it, my early morning classes were getting covered. My ninth- and tenth-grade homeroom students even took their own attendance and ran their own prayer session! Food started appearing out of nowhere from friends and co-workers. And Adam talked me into leaving the bathroom door open so he could come running when he heard the tale-tell sounds of sickness.
Now, five months into the pregnancy, I've learned that I really do have to depend on other people. Pregnant women aren't as helpless as some people think we are, but there are some things I just can't do. Adam and I are moving into a new home tomorrow. I can't smell the chemicals required to scour the oven. I can really navigate around the piles of boxes in our living room with my growing belly. And I don't have the stamina to pack for hours on end without many, many breaks.
Just like in the first trimester, help has materialized. My mother came up and helped clean our apartment--several friends have volunteered to finish the job on Sunday. My in-laws came up for a friendly visit and ended up packing a huge number of our belongings. Friends volunteered their time to stuff our dishes and books into boxes.
There are those who question whether it is responsible to bring a child into a world with so much suffering. I suppose they may have a point. But I, for one, am happy to be introducing a new person into the warm, charitable, generous community and family by which Adam and I are lucky to be surrounded.
Without Adam, I wouldn't have made it through the first trimester. Without our friends and family, we wouldn't be moving into a wonderful new house with plenty of room for the baby.
There is no way I could be pregnant by myself.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
#7. There Is No Such Thing As "Your" Pregnancy
Adam and I intentionally planned a wedding that wasn't just our wedding. So many people helped us get to that wonderful day--our parents, families, friends, and priests--that it seemed unfair to plan a party that was just for us. Besides, marriage is about strengthening and celebrating community.
I knew we would have the joy of sharing our baby with other people the same way we get to share the happiness of our marriage. I just didn't realize that the sharing started the moment we conceived.
I guess I'd always assumed that pregnancy was a kind of physical challenge a woman had to face on her own. My husband would be a kind of coach reminding me to keep my head in the game and keeping me in "peak" physical condition. Everyone else would be a crowd of spectators who half-followed the game until playoffs season. Wrong and wrong.
Adam, though, has had to deal with the emotional ups and downs, the sickness, and the sleepless nights as much as I have. He isn't just helping me--we're really both pregnant together. He already loves the baby as much as I do, too.
And it doesn't stop with Adam. As soon as we announced the pregnancy, offers of love and support poured in from all over the country--and the world. Seventy middle and high schoolers praying for our baby every day. My mom calls from Georgia and gives me advice on pregnancy each and every morning. We had tearful letters from grad school friends in Seattle and Oxford. We've been truly overwhelmed by love and excitement.
Over the past few months, I've realized that the love and support we're enjoying aren't just for me, or even just for me and Adam. Our family and friends are genuinely excited to participate with us in bringing a new life, a new member of the human community into this world. Babies are exciting and pregnancy isn't something I can keep to myself.
I knew we would have the joy of sharing our baby with other people the same way we get to share the happiness of our marriage. I just didn't realize that the sharing started the moment we conceived.
I guess I'd always assumed that pregnancy was a kind of physical challenge a woman had to face on her own. My husband would be a kind of coach reminding me to keep my head in the game and keeping me in "peak" physical condition. Everyone else would be a crowd of spectators who half-followed the game until playoffs season. Wrong and wrong.
Adam, though, has had to deal with the emotional ups and downs, the sickness, and the sleepless nights as much as I have. He isn't just helping me--we're really both pregnant together. He already loves the baby as much as I do, too.
And it doesn't stop with Adam. As soon as we announced the pregnancy, offers of love and support poured in from all over the country--and the world. Seventy middle and high schoolers praying for our baby every day. My mom calls from Georgia and gives me advice on pregnancy each and every morning. We had tearful letters from grad school friends in Seattle and Oxford. We've been truly overwhelmed by love and excitement.
Over the past few months, I've realized that the love and support we're enjoying aren't just for me, or even just for me and Adam. Our family and friends are genuinely excited to participate with us in bringing a new life, a new member of the human community into this world. Babies are exciting and pregnancy isn't something I can keep to myself.
Monday, February 21, 2011
#6. There's Often No Need to Keep Pregnancy a Secret
I know some couples choose to keep their pregnancies a secret for professional reasons, but I think many women don't talk about pregnancy in their first trimester because of their fear they will miscarry.
I was excited enough to get pregnant that I didn't want to jinx it by expressing my excitement to anyone. Miscarriage is a scary thing. But, the more I thought about it, the more I realized my fears about miscarriage were no reason to keep my pregnancy a secret. If Adam and I lost our baby, the last thing we would want to do would be to go through it alone.
Adam eventually sat me down and pointed out to me that I wasn't giving enough credit to our family and friends. He reminded me that no one would be angry at me or blame me if we lost our baby. I asked him how I would break it to seventy teenaged girls that something so sad had happened:
"Well, they'll be sad with you. You'll cry together and pray together and all come out of it closer and wiser."
He was right. I have an amazing community of family and friends who love and support me. Even if I hadn't told them about my pregnancy, there was no way I wasn't going to ask for their prayers if we lost the baby.
I was excited enough to get pregnant that I didn't want to jinx it by expressing my excitement to anyone. Miscarriage is a scary thing. But, the more I thought about it, the more I realized my fears about miscarriage were no reason to keep my pregnancy a secret. If Adam and I lost our baby, the last thing we would want to do would be to go through it alone.
Adam eventually sat me down and pointed out to me that I wasn't giving enough credit to our family and friends. He reminded me that no one would be angry at me or blame me if we lost our baby. I asked him how I would break it to seventy teenaged girls that something so sad had happened:
"Well, they'll be sad with you. You'll cry together and pray together and all come out of it closer and wiser."
He was right. I have an amazing community of family and friends who love and support me. Even if I hadn't told them about my pregnancy, there was no way I wasn't going to ask for their prayers if we lost the baby.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
#5. It's More Difficult Than You Think to Keep Pregnancy Secret
Because it took us so long to get a medical confirmation that we really were pregnant, Adam and I decided to wait to tell our family and friends. Besides, the majority of miscarriages happen in the first trimester. And Thanksgiving, when we would be seeing Adam's parents in person anyway, seemed like a great occasion to tell our family in person.
It turns out that keeping pregnancy a secret is surprisingly difficult, even for a few weeks.
First, we had to break down and tell my mother soon after the positive pee test. She thought some of my early pregnancy symptoms might be a sign of a deadly disease.
Then, of course, we had to tell my in-laws. It wouldn't be fair to only tell my parents. And I was so sick by the time we got to their house for Thanksgiving there would have been no way to hide that something was going on.
As my morning sickness got worse, I had to tell my boss and the school secretary. There were some mornings I was too busy getting sick to make it to school on time.
We didn't tell anyone else, but it soon became clear that everyone knew. My students said I kept unconsciously rubbing my belly. And my ginger chews made them very suspicious. My best friend noticed a change in my shape pretty quickly. The list goes on and on...
At first, I was pretty disappointed. I thought I'd missed out on some of the excitement of telling the people I cared about that we were having a baby. But, as it turns out, I have an entire community of friends and family who have loved our baby since the day Adam and I got married--before he or she was even conceived. They continue to surprise and delight me with the concern for me, interest in my health, and love for the baby.
So what if I failed to keep a secret? I'm not sure you're supposed to keep secrets about something so exciting anyway.
It turns out that keeping pregnancy a secret is surprisingly difficult, even for a few weeks.
First, we had to break down and tell my mother soon after the positive pee test. She thought some of my early pregnancy symptoms might be a sign of a deadly disease.
Then, of course, we had to tell my in-laws. It wouldn't be fair to only tell my parents. And I was so sick by the time we got to their house for Thanksgiving there would have been no way to hide that something was going on.
As my morning sickness got worse, I had to tell my boss and the school secretary. There were some mornings I was too busy getting sick to make it to school on time.
We didn't tell anyone else, but it soon became clear that everyone knew. My students said I kept unconsciously rubbing my belly. And my ginger chews made them very suspicious. My best friend noticed a change in my shape pretty quickly. The list goes on and on...
At first, I was pretty disappointed. I thought I'd missed out on some of the excitement of telling the people I cared about that we were having a baby. But, as it turns out, I have an entire community of friends and family who have loved our baby since the day Adam and I got married--before he or she was even conceived. They continue to surprise and delight me with the concern for me, interest in my health, and love for the baby.
So what if I failed to keep a secret? I'm not sure you're supposed to keep secrets about something so exciting anyway.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
#4. It Isn't As Simple As Peeing on a Stick
False positives on pregnancy tests are extremely rare, so I suppose I should have trusted my positive pregnancy test. I might have, if I hadn't taken two negative pregnancy tests already. The tests that work "up to X days" before your missed period just didn't cut it and that rosy plus sign never appeared. How was I supposed to believe the one out of three that yielded the most exciting results? I wasn't supposed to be able to get pregnant that easily!
Given that I wasn't sure I could trust the third (or fourth) pregnancy test, I assumed the next step was to schedule an appointment that week with the OB. I was surprised and disappointed to find out that many OBs won't see you right away for a suspected pregnancy--they scheduled me for a "pregnancy confirmation" appointment three weeks after I'd gotten a plus sign on the pee stick.
I wasn't sure I could wait that long. I was desperate for a medical professional to tell me I truly was pregnant. What if, despite all the evidence that I was, indeed, pregnant, I'd made a mistake? I was terrified by the potential disappointment--and embarrassment. I knew I couldn't cope with deflating my family's dreams of grandchildren or my students' joy about my pregnancy! So I told Adam I didn't want to tell anyone about the pregnancy until we knew "for sure."
It's only in retrospect that I realize how damaged my whole perspective on life was. I was still counting on failure--my failure to conceive, or my failure to know we had conceived, or, worst of all, my failure to sustain a pregnancy.
My refusal to joyfully accept the reality of my early pregnancy robbed me of a special moment in my life I can never get back. But I can learn something from it.
I don't want to raise a child crippled by the possibility of failure and disappointment. So I'm going to have to learn to accept that good things can, do, and will happen to me. And I'm going to have to accept that sometimes I'll make mistakes or have truly tragic things happen to me. Good and bad are parts of life. They only become problematic when I become so preoccupied with the future I can't pay attention to today.
But at least I know I wasn't alone in my struggle to excitedly accept my pregnancy.
When I did go in for a pregnancy confirmation appointment with my OB, the nurse asked if I'd taken a positive pregnancy test. "Yes," I said, "Two."
Her response? "Why doesn't anyone ever believe the first one?"
Given that I wasn't sure I could trust the third (or fourth) pregnancy test, I assumed the next step was to schedule an appointment that week with the OB. I was surprised and disappointed to find out that many OBs won't see you right away for a suspected pregnancy--they scheduled me for a "pregnancy confirmation" appointment three weeks after I'd gotten a plus sign on the pee stick.
I wasn't sure I could wait that long. I was desperate for a medical professional to tell me I truly was pregnant. What if, despite all the evidence that I was, indeed, pregnant, I'd made a mistake? I was terrified by the potential disappointment--and embarrassment. I knew I couldn't cope with deflating my family's dreams of grandchildren or my students' joy about my pregnancy! So I told Adam I didn't want to tell anyone about the pregnancy until we knew "for sure."
It's only in retrospect that I realize how damaged my whole perspective on life was. I was still counting on failure--my failure to conceive, or my failure to know we had conceived, or, worst of all, my failure to sustain a pregnancy.
My refusal to joyfully accept the reality of my early pregnancy robbed me of a special moment in my life I can never get back. But I can learn something from it.
I don't want to raise a child crippled by the possibility of failure and disappointment. So I'm going to have to learn to accept that good things can, do, and will happen to me. And I'm going to have to accept that sometimes I'll make mistakes or have truly tragic things happen to me. Good and bad are parts of life. They only become problematic when I become so preoccupied with the future I can't pay attention to today.
But at least I know I wasn't alone in my struggle to excitedly accept my pregnancy.
When I did go in for a pregnancy confirmation appointment with my OB, the nurse asked if I'd taken a positive pregnancy test. "Yes," I said, "Two."
Her response? "Why doesn't anyone ever believe the first one?"
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
#3. No One Really Talks about "Normal" Pregnancy
Google lists 10,000 hits for "There is no such thing as a normal pregnancy." But a cliché, no matter how common, doesn't change the fact that some pregnancies are more normal than others.
From the very first day I found out I was pregnant, I've been sure every single possible complication would happen to me. First I was sure I had a tubal pregnancy. Then I thought I was going to miscarry imminently. I've been prepared for months for my OB to put me on bed rest, but it just hasn't happened. And it probably isn't going to.
So many women are prepared to tell you their pregnancy horror stories that you won't often hear what I've discovered to be the truth--most pregnancies are safe, routine (to everyone except the new parents), and uncomplicated.
I wish I could have been convinced how unlikely it is for a twenty-five-year-old woman in good health with no known risk factors to have a difficult pregnancy. All the unnecessary worry really put in kink in my enjoyment of my early pregnancy. Pregnancy isn't pleasant, but every unpleasant side-effect doesn't mean something in harming my baby or endangering his or her life.
I'm only halfway through my pregnancy and, for all I know, I'll develop a bizarre complication tomorrow. But, for right now, I'm beginning to believe that no news is good news and, chances are, everything will be okay.
From the very first day I found out I was pregnant, I've been sure every single possible complication would happen to me. First I was sure I had a tubal pregnancy. Then I thought I was going to miscarry imminently. I've been prepared for months for my OB to put me on bed rest, but it just hasn't happened. And it probably isn't going to.
So many women are prepared to tell you their pregnancy horror stories that you won't often hear what I've discovered to be the truth--most pregnancies are safe, routine (to everyone except the new parents), and uncomplicated.
I wish I could have been convinced how unlikely it is for a twenty-five-year-old woman in good health with no known risk factors to have a difficult pregnancy. All the unnecessary worry really put in kink in my enjoyment of my early pregnancy. Pregnancy isn't pleasant, but every unpleasant side-effect doesn't mean something in harming my baby or endangering his or her life.
I'm only halfway through my pregnancy and, for all I know, I'll develop a bizarre complication tomorrow. But, for right now, I'm beginning to believe that no news is good news and, chances are, everything will be okay.
Monday, February 14, 2011
#2. No One Really Talks about "Normal Conception"
I've always known that motherhood would be an important part of my vocation.
And I've always known that, when the time came, I would have trouble getting pregnant.
Way to trust in God's will, right?
Adam and I decided to stop practicing NFP with the ( read "my") vague expectation that getting pregnant would be difficult. It seems so inconceivable that conception happens at all! Combine that with all the horror stories passed around between women about friends who can't conceive and commercials about IVF, it's no real wonder that I got the impression conception isn't something that can just happen.
When Adam and I conceived after less than a month of not trying not to conceive, I was blown away. It really radically altered the way I think about God and his plan for my life.
For the first time, I had to acknowledge that God doesn't call us to things we aren't equipped to do. Period. If God called me to be a teacher, he gave me the skills I need to teach. If He intended for me to be a wife, I'm equipped for that, too. And if God wants me to have a baby, he is going to make it possible for me to have a baby. I ought to have known that.
Conception isn't easy for everyone--and I would never downplay the real pain that couples who can't conceive experience. But conception can and does happen every day. Even though few women who didn't have any trouble conceiving talk about it, there's no reason to be surprised when biology works just the way it is designed to.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
#1. Most of the What You "Know" About Pregnancy Is a Lie
Thanksgiving day. Two months pregnant. I was hysterically sobbing to my husband. "I was so stupid! I thought pregnancy would be beautiful. What was I thinking?!? I can't do this!"
I've always wanted to be pregnant. Not just to have a baby, but to actually have a baby growing inside of me. How touching! How beautiful! How short-sighted.
My husband frequently warned me before I got pregnant that my expectations were too high. Nothing as mammalian as pregnancy could possibly warrant my level of enthusiasm. But I didn't listen.
It turns out, as it often does, that Adam was right. I certainly don't regret getting pregnant, but I sometimes feel like I did so under false pretenses. Pregnancy isn't cute. Pregnancy isn't pretty. And it isn't easy.
Stay tuned for frequent updates as I learn more!
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