Whenever I see a baby, precisely two things happen:
- My heart does this weird flip-flop thing, my insides start melting into the real-life version of the heart-eye emoji, and I start dreaming about life with a baby to snuggle again.
- My body starts groaning just thinking about the pain and swelling and pregnancy all over again.
After four kids, you could say that I’m on pretty familiar terms with pregnancy. But I have to admit that I’ve also taken pregnancy for granted. I haven’t had a lot of complications during pregnancy, I was able to deliver my babies without a lot of interventions, and overall, I remained relatively healthy. (I mean, unless we could serious stretch marks as a disease?)
I had always thought people who said that pregnancy was a “blessing” or a beautiful journey or a miracle were well-intentioned, but a little crazy. I mean, pregnancy kind of sucked for me. Everything about pregnancy was hard for me, right down to even breathing at the end of my fourth one.
And then I had a miscarriage.
For the first time in my eight years as a parent, I finally realized what all those women had been talking about, when they gushed about what a privilege pregnancy is and how amazing it really is, because as soon as I could no longer have the baby I so desperately wanted in my arms anymore, I realized how fragile life really is. Everything that I had taken for granted before — that a positive pregnancy tests leads to a beautiful, bouncing baby nine months later — felt suddenly so foolish.
I felt ashamed for all the times I had complained about pregnancy, lamenting my swollen ankles and my huge, huge belly. My cheeks burned with embarrassment when I thought of all the women I must have inadvertently hurt when I complained on social media about being so miserable, women who would have given anything to have the chance to complain too, but instead, had been forced to say “goodbye” to their babies too soon.
I realized, for the first time, that pregnancy really is a privilege, and it made me take pause and wonder if I had been wrong to complain so much about pregnancy for all those years.
But here’s the thing: even though I lost my baby and even though every cell in my body would trade anything to have that baby back at this very moment, if I were to ever get pregnant again, I know it would still be hard. Having a miscarriage has shown me just how lucky mamas are to have uncomplicated pregnancies and as much as it has opened my eyes to the fact that pregnancy really is a gift, I still think it’s a gift that comes with some challenges.
Pregnancy might be a blessing and an incredible experience, but for some women, pregnancy is also an incredibly, incredibly hard experience. Physically, emotionally, and just about every other way, pregnancy can be a difficult journey to walk through. There are so many worries and fears that come along with pregnancy, not to mention complications and physical hurdles. Pregnancy just isn’t pretty for all women and it’s OK to talk about that.
So if you aren’t loving pregnancy right now and are feeling just a tad ungrateful, wondering if you should be quiet and embrace the gift of pregnancy, let me just say: I don’t begrudge your aches and pains and worries and fears, mama. Even though I wish I will pregnant alongside of you, your experience is valid too.
You don’t have to love being pregnant to love the chance to be pregnant. And most importantly, you don’t have to love being pregnant to love your baby or to love being a mom.
So to all the pregnant mamas out there struggling right now and all the mothers who wish they were struggling through pregnancy, let’s just remember that we’re all in this together, doing the best we can.