Sarah Too

12 weeks, 14 weeks, 15 weeks, 19 weeks

Baby Boy is growing and at nearly 20 weeks, this has been an overwhelming adventure so far.

I don't think any woman can truly be prepared for her first pregnancy. As a woman in her 30s, with lots of friends and family members that already are parents (some several times over), I heard many birth stories, baby stories, and toddler stories - including the gory details. I also experienced firsthand my friends' and family's kids with them. I am not clueless as to how pregnancy and parenting changes a person's perspective and priorities. I have an idea of the immense responsibilities required, as well as the challenges and joys.

Unfortunately, NONE of this prepared me for the emotional onslaught brought on by pregnancy.  If I thought I had a busy brain before, then there is no comparison the intellectual and emotional whirlwind going on up there right now. Don't get me wrong, I want this kid and I'm excited for parenthood. I'm also terrified and worried. What kind of kid will this be? Please let him be a sleeper and a good eater. What kind of parent will I be? Please let me be wise, sage, kind, and patient (a.k.a, Yoda). Who will I be as a woman? Please let me become more awesome without losing myself to motherhood (a.k.a., Michelle Obama). 

So not only do I have many existentially and philosophically profound questions rattling around my head everyday, I also have an insanely quick temper. I am ENRAGED easily, with profanities erupting out of my mouth because I can't get the groceries out of the car easily and quickly. I become frustrated over stoplights and personally insulted by slow drivers in front of me (and every driver in this city is slow). Certain music drives me to rage tears and headaches (e.g., Skrillex and Harlem Shake). I hate the kitchen sink even more than before. It's entire existence is a testament to the unequal second-class treatment of women. Trust me. It IS. And poor Jacob, he can't win. It's not possible in my pregnant world.

Frustrating me even more is that my anger and mercurial moods are contrary to the popular image of a glowing and blissful pregnant woman in her 2nd trimester with boundless energy for nesting. HA! As if. I feel frumpy. My rapidly-changing body raises body-image issues and fears I either (a) never knew I had or (b) thought I had put to rest with my last weightlifting PR. I feel neither glowing nor blissful, and my anger rises further when expressing my concerns results in suggestions to "take a breath and relax", or better yet, in personal stories of how "that's not how my 2nd trimester went at all. I felt so great!"

First of all, I AM trying to relax. Do you think I LIKE being angry, stressed, or stewed up about shit that I KNOW is trivial and stupid?? I am meditating. I am yoga-ing. I am exercising. I am napping. I am taking time out for me (massages, pedicures, non-Paleo treats). I am isolating myself when I know I'm not at my best. I altered my coaching schedule to benefit my husband and our athletes. I am doing everything my rational mind will let me do to keep my stress levels down for both ME and baby boy. Jeebus. As for YOUR experience? Doesn't effing apply. Every woman has a different pregnancy because every human body is different. So eff you and your "perfect" trimester, which I'm sure you're just forgetting the details because of "Mommy Brain." [Speaking of that, it exists. HOLY SHIT. Forgotten milk cartons on the counter. Ladders left out in front of the gym with no one there. Things on the tip of my tongue, yet SO elusive...]

The anger also stems from my frustration that, as a fitness coach and gym owner, I watch my athletes and my husband continue excelling at physical feats while I "maintain" my fitness. Don't misunderstand me, please. I realize I am performing quite a miraculous physical feat myself by growing a whole, healthy, live human being. I KNOW THIS. This knowledge does not diminish the mild grief I feel about my own fitness goals, physical capabilities, and changing body. My workouts are now much less intense than they were before my pregnancy. I move at a measured pace. I lift slightly less weight simply because it is less exhausting. I learned these lessons the hard way by pushing myself too hard, then feeling wiped out for an entire day post-workout. NO bueno. Regardless, I feel slow, cautious, and unmotivated by my workouts. They are no longer challenges I am happy I overcame. They are simply exercises in movement.

The flip side of my anger is the loneliness and crying. No one tells you how lonely pregnancy can be. As much as everyone around you wants to know how you are feeling and how your pregnancy is going, no one wants to hear that you're sick of being asked how you're feeling. Most just want to hear how effing excited you are. While the excitement is there, so is lot of other emotional shit. And no one but you is going through YOUR pregnancy.

Pregnancy is all consuming. Even when I think I've forgotten about it, I am reminded of it either because I am out of breath, I am tired, I can't get comfortable in a chair or in bed, I am cranky for no real reason, another pair of pants does not fit, someone pointed out that I look big(ger), my food tastes weird or unappetizing, my feet are swollen, I smell something no one else can smell, I think of yet another thing I need to research concerning birth plans or breastfeeding, I fart, or I am constipated yet again. TMI? Maybe, but there you have it.

This is my pregnancy experience. It's exciting, terrifying, infuriating, frustrating, and lonely. Take all the things that are exciting about the birth of a baby (the joy of meeting him, holding him, showing him off, seeing him develop into a little person, buying cute outfits, seeing the world in a new way, loving your spouse in a new way), and add all the other stuff, too. That's pregnancy. It's light and dark. Yin and yang. It may be the most intensely spiritual experience of my life and I'm so exhausted - emotionally and physically - that it is difficult to take it all in and revel in it. This is the longest, and shortest, 10 months of my life (YES, pregnancy is 10 months). Now, who has some boy names to suggest?