Field Notes from Pregnancy #2
June 6, 2022
Although this isn’t my first go at this, it’s still a trip to me that you get pregnant, and then nothing. You pee on the stick — it’s this momentous thing and then nothing. No need to rush, because guess what, your baby is but a clump of cells. In fact, I can see exactly the way the cells might look on a pregnancy app. Definitely a clump, not at all yet baby-like. And so I catch myself swiping forward to 6 weeks, 8 weeks, 10 weeks. Noting the time when the clump starts to resemble a human.
And in these weeks, I’m told my pregnancy is the most vulnerable. Most likely to slip through my fingers. These weeks when I have no indication of how things are going in there, I’m feeling the most uneasy. But it’s not like last time. Last time was torture. I had so much time to sit and think about being pregnant. Jumping at any new sensation or bracing myself to see blood. This time, I’m too busy chasing a toddler — too absorbed in the doings of each day and caring for my little boy. It’s the greatest, most welcomed distraction. I have so much faith in this body of mine, so much faith in what is meant to unfold. I feel a little easier about the unknown, a little more friendly towards this state of limbo.
July 8, 2022
9 weeks pregnant now. Time is dragging as I try to sit with the unknown and discomfort. The sickness is different this time. A hum of nausea throughout the day that increases towards dinnertime. But with small snacks and meals, I keep it mostly at bay. It’s like magic and I’m over the moon grateful. And then ironically enough, the absence of nausea makes the worry of a miscarriage worse. Foreboding joy. Over and over again.
I hate the first trimester. This second time around affirms it. I feel consistently ‘off’, forever bloated, and just not easeful in my clothing or body. And yet to most everyone, I haven’t changed. Nothing is different. And I don’t yet have the joy and reassurance that come with later pregnancy. Like the kicks or an ultrasound picture or a distinctly growing belly. Instead, I feel like a worried blob. M is a wonderful distraction and a tiring, magical one at that. He has me going nonstop and I’m excited to share this news with him and see how he navigates the journey with us. I think my most dominant thought is one of excitement for the shift in our family and the anticipation of love between our kids. Obviously, it will come with a new set of challenges, because what part of this doesn’t, but I know that we’re in for a ton of joy and new levels of love.
July 24, 2022
I heard the baby’s heartbeat this past week. It came through strong and clear. It was so reassuring and exactly what I needed.
Adam and I just argued about my lack of self-care and he urged me to take time for myself and fill my cup when I have pockets of time, instead of wasting it. He’s right, but I am so resistant for some reason. I think my depletion leaves me with little motivation to do anything but lay and consume whatever content I can find on my phone. A habit that I wholeheartedly want to stop.
Since having Malcolm, I’ll often mistaken self-care for a solo trip to the grocery store or cleaning the house. Here’s the difference between chores and self-care: Chores are still a giving of yourself. They don’t fill you up, they empty you. Chores aren’t for the purpose of healing or nurturing or caring for the self. And yes you may put your favourite podcast on while you clean or treat yourself to a coffee while you shop, but don’t be fooled, you can’t multitask your way into feeling cared for. These solo moments during domestic duties can still feel good and dare I say, slightly restorative, but they are not to be confused with self-care at the end of the day. And so what can my self care look like? Sweating, stretching, walking, swimming, and dancing. Meditation, writing, art making, or listening to something insightful to better myself. Taking a course, writing, parenting workshop, attending a concert or talk.
I’m trying to give myself grace, especially when I feel like such crap right now in the 1st trimester. It’s frustrating to be in this survival mode for so long and ache for some normalcy and energy again.
Oct 16, 2022
I didn’t crave much when I was pregnant the first time. I watched an embarrassing number of Hot Ones episodes on YouTube and remember very much wanting a heap of chicken wings, but that was it. This time my cravings were loud and nostalgic.
The first was for this bran squares cereal that I grew up eating, or more memorably, grew up watching my dad eat. I bought a whole box and ate two bowls of it. Craving quenched.
Then it was Mr. Noodles. I toyed with the idea of eating them raw and crunched up in the bag as I did so many times circa grade 6, but I thought I’d be tasteful about it and cook the damn thing. Holy salt.
Then it was Bits and Bites. The kind of craving brought on by seeing the bag itself on a shelf at No Frills. Boom, in the cart. More salt, check.
Then it was Subway. I ate this on my way to Toronto for a little solo night away. I felt like a thief as I ordered the exact thing I ordered on a weekly basis as a teenager and hid away in my car to scarf the whole thing down (I don’t eat fast food much and felt the need to be stealthy for some reason ?).
Consistently, pickles or anything pickled has been a huge hit. Consistently, spice has been a mission of mine. Like spiiiicy food that makes you sweat a bit. Not something I ever sought out (or could handle) before, but here we are.
Jan 12, 2023
I catch myself saying all I can’t believe each day.
I can’t believe that these are some of our last days with M as our only child.
I can’t believe I’m drinking raspberry leaf and nettle tea and buying pads and meditating on a healthy birth.
I can’t believe A and I are practicing breathing together and seeing our midwives weekly.
I can’t believe the strength of the kicks and weight in my pelvis and how familiar it feels.
I can’t believe the dualistic emotions I feel around all of it and yet, I guess I do believe that part, because all of motherhood has been a duality for me. The sadness I feel to close a chapter, while simultaneously filling with joy for all the love this new being will bring to our family. Cue the tears.
And I can’t believe the confidence I feel. The knowing that my body can birth, the peace that comes from having been here before. Only this time, no start of a pandemic (🎉) and with a community FULL of parents who are already planning the help for us. So grateful for our village. Certainly there will be so much challenge to navigate, but I feel an ease that didn’t exist last time and that is what I’m holding close to my heart.
Jan 27, 2023
Feeling very antsy to meet this baby. Both because I want to see their little face and know them, but also because I’m sick of peeing every 30 minutes and moving around has just become a wee bit uncomfortable. I catch myself rushing to the end of this pregnancy and then realize that this will likely be the last time my body does this miraculous thing. And then I feel sad and don’t want to wish it away.
M is just about to be 3 and so much of what he says needs to be bottled up for its cuteness. There is rarely a day when Adam and I aren’t shocked by something that comes out of his mouth. He likes to kiss my cheeks and my forehead. He checks on us and asks if we’re okay. He refuses to eat most of his dinners because he says ‘his mouth is shut and it’s okay, because he’s growing.’ He is convinced that the baby is a girl and he has already named her Margaret (it was ‘Rita’ for months until now). He tells us we’re his best friends and will say he loves us before saying that he also loves himself. He is truly such a sweet and clever little person that I absolutely love to be with.
And also, as per usual, I am tested on a daily basis as he tries to push every little boundary. We see him moving through his transition to being big brother already — in little regressions and BIG emotions. It often pushes me to a real place of frustration and I take breaks and deep breaths in front of him all the time.
On top of this, I am trying to avoid more winter sickness before baby comes and it’s meant many days alone with M, often cooped up because of the cold and ice. The blues are potent at some points in the day and I reflect on how sad I felt after having M three years ago. How isolating those months with a newborn in a pandemic were and I just want to reach through time to give my past self the warmest hug and comfort. As I now know myself better as a mother and as a person, human connection and community are pillars of my health and thriving. I am looking forward to tapping into these sources more than I ever could the first time around.
Feb 1, 2023
Yesterday Malcolm exclaimed, ‘I’m so excited to be a big brother!!’ Our house has become a total nest and we’re collectively so excited for this baby’s debut.
I’m feeling all sorts of little sensations these days — sometimes cramping — and it’s getting my hopes up. As long as I stretch every day, I continue to feel well and I am just soaking in this pregnant belly and honouring my body every chance I can.
I keep thoroughly cleaning our house and restocking the fridge so that we’ll be our most ‘ready’. I laugh when I think about all the napping, bathing, and resting I did at this time in my first pregnancy. Now I chase a toddler from 6am to 6pm and feel a real motivation and resilience that I can only attribute to that ‘mom power’ that I hoped to have one day.
Adam and I talk every evening about our strategies for this baby’s birth. I was so fortunate to have the labour and delivery experience that I did with Malcolm. All went the way I had hoped in terms of my wishes for a birth centre, unmedicated scenario. But there’s certainly much to reflect on when I consider how I coped with the pain, how I breathed (or didn’t), and how I still had shreds of fear/doubt in my mind because duh, I had never birthed before. Now I’m preparing my mind even more than I did the first time. I’m preparing my body by intentionally breathing and practicing for surges and labouring down. And we have some more tools up our sleeves for allowing me to tap out of whatever is going on around me to just be with my body and the baby and trust that I’m built to birth.
Feb 11, 2023
Going ‘overdue’. As each day ends and my due date came and went, I have become increasingly worried. The worry caught hold of me and I have tried to find every means for ‘control’ that I can. Like so much surrounding conception, pregnancy, and motherhood, there is this idea that the birthing mother can be ‘doing’ more than she already is. If she were to do more, she’d be able to change her and her baby’s circumstances. This pressure and the overwhelming information out there for every tip and trick imaginable gives mamas this sense that they can be controlling the outcomes far better than they are.
Every day I walk up and down the flight of stairs in our house, go for walks, drink 4 cups of raspberry leaf tea, eat 6 dates, do a 20 min yoga class that is meant to induce labour, bounce on a yoga ball at every given opportunity, douse my food in hot sauce, and sit in a dark room with my breast pump on to help produce oxytocin in my body. All while looking after our toddler and the regular day-to-day things our home requires to run. It’s been exhausting and with each passing day, I grow more frustrated with my body and with myself.
In addition to this, I feel like a watched pot that will never boil. Our community is tight-knit here and we’re so fortunate to have caring family and friends. The messages come in daily asking how I am and I feel this mounting pressure to ‘make it happen’, although of course, that’s no one’s intention.
I’m 41 weeks and 1 day pregnant and I’m deciding to let go. I called the midwife this morning and cried about my fear of medical induction and the potential loss of a home birth plan that I’m excited about. She told me to take the day off from all the things I have been doing. So I’m going to listen. I took a long bath in the middle of the afternoon, I called my sister and cried some more, I soaked in the tub and listened to the song that played on loop during my first labour experience. I rested and I spoke to our baby, saying that I am ready and that I believe they will know when to come. It was such a release.
Update ^^
Adam and I had been sleeping in separate rooms for months at this point because I was always tossing and turning and rearranging my elaborate pillow setup. But on that night, I asked him to sleep next to me. It felt good to have him near. And at midnight, my water broke.
The birth is a story for another post, but what turned out to be true is that J was born covered in vernix — a protective coating that is on a baby’s skin in utero. As pregnancy progresses, the baby absorbs more and more vernix. So a baby who is born past the due date shouldn’t have much vernix on his or her skin. My midwife was pretty confident that my date was incorrect. I had thought that this could have been the case because I originally calculated a different date when I found out that I was pregnant and they updated it after my first ultrasound, which is common, but changed it by a whole week.
The whole thing affirmed for me that my body and baby had been working together all along. It affirmed that I didn’t have to lose any trust in the process.
Now on the other side of it, I’m just so grateful that we got to experience the birth that we hoped for. I like to think that the ‘waiting’ after my due date was just what my mind needed to really welcome contractions. To hope for them and invite pain and discomfort, because I was so eager to meet our son.
