I hated being pregnant, so what?

Article originally published May 29, 2020

I already hear people saying to me: “Ah, but don’t get pregnant if you don’t like it! “

To which I answer: but how could I have known? I don’t have a magic machine that allows me to see the future, huh.

It’s like cooked tomato: how do you know it’s not good without ever tasting it? Well now I can tell: I don’t like cooked tomatoes and I hated being pregnant.

Pregnancy, this moment idealized by many

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always seen pregnant women around me loving those long months with big bellies. They seemed fulfilled, in tune with her and their future child, in short, a pure moment of joy. Anyway, that’s what they wanted to show, perhaps.

Suddenly, even though I knew it wasn’t necessarily going to be just a walk (it ends with a birth where you still have to eject a roast from your vagina, it’s nothing), I said to myself that overall, the pregnancy didn’t seem so terrible. .

Well, I put my finger in the eye for … for the womb? GOOD, you have an idea.

Contrary to what I had as an example around me, my pregnancy was not a long river of contentment and happiness of chirping birds and sweet unicorns. I’m barely extrapolating.

No, I really lived through these nine fuck long months like an ordeal, both physically and emotionally.

The physical proof of pregnancy, difficult to bear

The pregnancy is long. It seems even longer when he’s her first child, because you have time to watch your navel grow.

Let’s start with the first quarter of pregnancy. Yes I know, not everyone has the same symptoms and it depends from one woman to another, even from one pregnancy to another. It’s the lottery.

For my part, I wasn’t super spared, although I know it could have been worse. I had already told you about my phobia of vomiting, well let’s say that spending 3-4 months feeling nauseous from the moment I opened my eyes in the morning was not the best of times, you can imagine.

I tried everything to calm this nausea: the spoonful of honey upon awakening, the plants, the acupuncture: nothing worked.

I patiently endured my pain until the day it magically disappeared, without warning. And again, I’m lucky: I didn’t throw up once. Yippee yippee.

the second quarter, presumably it is the one where you feel best in your sneakers because the symptoms of the first few months have passed and where you like your half-ball state a little.

On the contrary sister, it was all rotten. I was starting to have a hard time moving without being out of breath (when I’m used to walking for hours), I wanted to smoke all the time, and it was also in the height of summer. , with terrible heat, swollen legs, vagal discomfort and a desire to drink a glass or two of rosé.

Hi, this is the beginning of the frustration.

the third quarter it was the worst, I think. I couldn’t see my feet because my belly was huge, I slept badly because the night was my daughter’s favorite time to hop in the small space of my uterus, and sticking her feet into my ribs seemed to be her favorite little game .

Add to that low back pain, repeated sciatica and piles for legs and we’re good to go.

No frankly, it was all rotten like stuff, I don’t recommend it huh.

The emotional ordeal of pregnancy, unbearable

Because it’s not just the physical points mentioned above that are difficult, otherwise it’s too easy. I think what I hated even more about the physical appearance that is going on for a ride is what was going through my head.

It took me a long time to realize that I had an occupant in my belly, even though it was growing by the day.

I could not admit my pregnancy, and I handled the frustration and the honeyed attention and yet full of good attention from my relatives very badly.

I had the impression that I was considered a fragile little thing that needed to be protected and cared for, and this made me feel royally wrong. I was pregnant, not sick, nor on sugar name of god !

I wanted to continue living my life as usual, except that I quickly became involved in reality and therefore was extremely frustrated.

And above all, I no longer existed. I, the woman, obviously was no longer present for those I met, I was just “the future mother”, the “pregnant woman”.

They only talked to me about my pregnancy, always and always, what I would do when my daughter was born, if I would breastfeed her, if she would sleep in our room or hers, if I was more washable or disposable diapers, pacifiers or thumbs …

Anyway thanks, but no thanks. I no longer had privacy in my thoughts and projects, all the questions that could be asked of me revolved only around pregnancy and parenting.

I had the impression of being forced to fill a role that I didn’t visualize at all like everyone else. For me our life would certainly change, but my personality would remain the same, on the same tracks. Suddenly I wasn’t going to be what they seemed to be expecting me to be.

Suddenly, I didn’t live up to expectations, raised questioning and somewhat judgmental brows, and it pissed me off.

I was looking forward to giving birth and for my daughter to be there, to be considered not only around this pregnancy, but also for me.

Not to mention the fact that once I was born, no one would try to touch my belly again without even asking my permission. No, but are we talking about this mania? You make me angry.

The liberation of childbirth, finally

When my daughter was born and once I was able to digest my very severe postpartum depression, I loved it. I had second thoughts about really wanting a baby when I saw how much I hated being pregnant, when it was a time that was supposed to be so beautiful and fulfilling.

I hadn’t been satisfied at all, I didn’t like those nine months at all. But now that he was finally here, that I could have another drink and smoke a cigarette without feeling guilty because my uterus had returned to its original shape and the occupant had cleared the premises, things were better. I’m extrapolating of course, but you have an idea.

I feel so much better being a mom now that my daughter no longer lives in my womb! And I admit I’m not sure if I want to put the cover back and make it into a little brother or sister.

At least for the moment, I don’t feel ready for this at all, because I know what I’ll have to go through. And this, even though every pregnancy is different, there is still the fact that it will once again be about hosting a squatter for a few months. Adoption is not in our plans, so we’ll see for the rest!

But we are not there yet, very, very far from there, I will still need time to forget all this.

I almost envy those in bloom and find that these long months are cool, even if they can be reluctant in many ways!

Photo credit image by a: film A Happy Event