Howdy, everyone! (Taps mic.) Is this thing still on??
For the past few years, every time I’ve sat down to write a post, I’ve been amazed by how much time has passed since I last touched the blog. I used to feel guilty about this, especially when comparing my posting frequency to the pace at which “real bloggers” seem to churn out material. But I’ve slowly come to accept several things: 1) writing is a pretty slow process for me, so quality over quantity is a good approach, 2) writing is such a key part of who I am and how I understand the world that I can confidently put it to rest in busy seasons and know that I’ll find my way back eventually, and 3) life has been so chock full of change over the past few years that it’s kind of a miracle that this blog is still standing. So instead of feeling guilty, I choose to celebrate!
And things won’t be slowing down anytime soon…As some of you may have seen on my social media, Mr. Pink Tie and I are about to undergo our biggest life transition yet: We’re expecting a baby boy due January 1, 2024!
I want to first say how incredibly excited and grateful we are, while also acknowledging that pregnancy has been a JOURNEY and I had NO CLUE what I was signing up for. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually, this has already been one of the craziest and hardest things I’ve ever done (and I know it’s about to get much harder with a newborn!). I can’t stop marveling at the fact that there are over 8 billion people on the planet and that every single one of them resulted from a woman undergoing this weird, wonderful, and sometimes downright miserable process of pregnancy (not to mention labor, delivery, and the postpartum period). I can’t stop marveling at the fact that many women do this not just once but many times over the course of their reproductive years, while continuing to work, care for other children, manage households, and tend to countless other responsibilities. I am just…in awe, honestly.
But before I dive into the specifics of my story, I do want to acknowledge that there is a flip side to all of this. Even amidst the challenges, I recognize that we are very blessed to have had a healthy and low-risk pregnancy thus far. I realize that not every woman or couple has this same experience, and I have tried to be intentional about offering much of my pregnancy-related suffering for those who have experienced infertility, miscarriage, difficult and/or high-risk pregnancies, and other struggles on the path to parenthood that far exceed my own. So I hope that everything I’m about to share can be read with these things in mind. None of my comments stem from a place of self-pity or signal a lack of appreciation for the miracle and fragility of life.
Now back to our regularly scheduled programming. Did I mention that pregnancy has been a JOURNEY?!? Let’s break it down…
The Physical
About a week after getting the positive pregnancy test and feeling both overjoyed (a baby!) and nervous (omg, a BABY), the nausea set in. Like many women, I quickly learned that “morning sickness” is a total misnomer, as it became my all-day, every day, all-consuming reality from the beginning of May to the end of July. I also experienced some crazy strong aversions to totally benign foods like fruit, eggs, bread, and water, which made it exceedingly difficult to stay hydrated (during an impossibly hot and dry summer, even for Houston). And then there was the exhaustion. Oh my goodness, I never knew it was possible to be that tired! There were days when I would sleep for 10 hours, get up to choke down whatever food didn’t repulse me, throw in a load of laundry, and then need a 2 hour nap to recover.
I truly felt like a different person inhabiting a different body. Gone were the days when I’d eagerly hop out of bed at 5:30 am to make coffee, pray, and exercise before work. During that first trimester, it was an accomplishment to shower and brush my teeth every day (especially given that I couldn’t find a toothpaste that didn’t make me gag). My prayer life consisted mainly of holding a rosary during the worst waves of nausea and repeating “Jesus, I trust in you” through tears. My thick, dry hair became greasy and started falling out, to the point where my hairdresser (before learning I was pregnant) gave me a concerned look and asked if I was getting enough vitamins. My skin started breaking out like I was a teenager and my face was consistently a pale shade of green. I fantasized about switching bodies with someone else for a while, Freaky-Friday style, or simply hibernating for a few months until it was all over.
Besides the grace of God and other people’s prayers, the main things that kept me going were my sonogram appointments. The first time we got to see our baby on the ultrasound at 8 weeks was one of those breathtaking moments that’s hard to put into words, even for a writer. Because I wasn’t yet showing or able to feel any kicks, this was the first time his little life felt truly real and tangible. All of my symptoms just made me feel chronically ill, but seeing his tiny form and hearing his heartbeat reminded me that in reality, we were both very healthy, and everything was going as it should. We had to have additional ultrasounds at weeks 10 and 12 to nail down a firm due date, and even though it seemed a little excessive (and certainly wasn’t cheap), I think maybe God sent me those additional opportunities to see my son because He knew I’d need them. I really, really did.
Fortunately, around week 16, I started to turn a corner. I will never forget what it felt like to wake up one day and realize I didn’t immediately need to go back to bed! Gradually, I was able to eat and drink more normally, and every time I successfully reintroduced a food to which I had previously been averse, we celebrated. “Strawberries are back today!” I’d announce to Mr. Pink Tie, who would cheer enthusiastically.
After a few more weeks, I was able to operate somewhat normally again, to make it through the workday without a 2-hour nap, to meet up with friends, to cook and clean, and even to exercise. Currently, as I approach week 30, I’m still taking a small dose of anti-nausea medication before bed, I still struggle to drink enough water, and I still can’t eat eggs or stand the smell of coffee. But these minor inconveniences pale in comparison to what I experienced before. Plus, now I can feel the baby kick (and punch, and roll, and audition for American Ninja Warrior), which I love.
The Emotional
From an emotional standpoint, I quickly encountered another pregnancy struggle: other people’s opinions, and namely those expressed on the interwebs. In an effort to distract myself from the nausea, I spent wayyyyy too much time scrolling on Instagram in those early weeks. I was actually looking for inspirational pregnancy and motherhood accounts to follow, but instead I became inundated by every idea, opinion, research study, and cautionary tale under the sun. One organization would strongly warn against doing X during pregnancy, while another would counter that this advice was outdated and could be ignored. One Internet Mom would sing the praises of a particular baby brand, sleep method, or feeding philosophy, while the next would condemn this same product or practice as the root of all evil. Even well-meaning sources of pregnancy wellness tips felt out of touch with my reality — I couldn’t fathom trying to increase my choline or omega-3 intake when blue Gatorade was the closest thing to a fruit I’d touched in weeks.
The breaking point came when I was reading a post in which one woman shared her breastfeeding struggles. At first, I was inspired by her vulnerability and courage in sharing — until her tone took a sudden turn and she began using her own story of perseverance to shame women who give up breastfeeding “too easily” and clearly don’t “love their babies enough.”
GET THIS WOMAN OFF THE INTERNET! I wanted to scream. (I may have actually screamed, too — this time period is mostly a blur.) Then, I realized, it was time to get ME off the internet.
Within days of deleting the Instagram app from my phone, I noticed dramatic improvements in my mental health. I started taking the approach that if my OB wasn’t worried, I wasn’t going to worry, either — and luckily, she has been a great resource and cheerleader throughout my pregnancy thus far. She also experienced a lot of nausea during her own pregnancies, so when I shared that my main food groups were Diet Coke, cheeseburgers, and gyro sandwiches from our local Greek restaurant, she laughed knowingly and encouraged me to simply do my best.
I’ve continued avoiding Instagram as much as possible since then, and although I miss seeing updates from friends, you really can’t put a price on peace of mind. I’ve also unfollowed the accounts that were stressing me out so that if and when I do choose to scroll, I’m less likely to spiral.
The Spiritual
Throughout the worst of my symptoms, I kept reminding myself that God wouldn’t allow me to suffer unless He intended to bring a greater good out of the experience. However, as I looked over at my poor husband, I often wondered if there were any good in it for him, too.
I was well aware that we had vowed to love each other “in sickness and in health” on our wedding day, but what had never occurred to me was that I might be the one to be sick first. For whatever reason (probably pride), I had always envisioned myself playing the hero in this scenario, not the other way around. I was ready to make soup when Mr. Pink Tie was sniffly, apply cold compresses when his fever spiked, and make a late-night run for cough drops when his throat was sore. I was not prepared to need his help, at least this soon. I was not prepared for how vulnerable it would feel for him to see me at my worst, to hear my grumpiest and most unpleasant thoughts laid bare, and to pick up my slack in almost every area. And I was not prepared for what it would feel like for him to do all of this with such willingness and compassion, with such strength and grace. He didn’t just step up to the plate — he hit the ball out of the park, over and over. When I felt useless, he reminded me that we were both working hard doing exactly what we were supposed to be doing. For me, that meant growing a whole human being, not cleaning the house or answering emails.
Looking back on this time, I can also see God’s hand in setting the tone for my motherhood. My tendency, as you may have gathered, is to try to do it all and do it perfectly. And even after all these years of growing in freedom from my perfectionistic ways, I can still see a version of reality where, if I had felt better, I would have put a ton of pressure on myself to have the “perfect pregnancy.” To eat the perfect diet, exercise just the right amount, avoid anything and everything that could possibly harm a developing fetus, read every book on pregnancy and motherhood, and have everything ready for baby months in advance.
Essentially, in allowing me to feel like crap, He kinda saved me from myself.
I had to let go of all expectations and allow “survival mode” to be good enough for a while. I had to learn to drown out all the voices of the Internet Moms (even the well-meaning ones) and instead turn to a few trusted individuals and my own intuition for direction. I had to learn to look to Our Lady and realize that she isn’t held up as the model of motherhood because she chose the right prenatal vitamin or because of her decision regarding whether to sleep train Jesus. Instead, we honor Mary because of her fidelity to the Lord and receptivity to His plan for her family, even when this plan involved hardship and suffering. (The donkey ride to Bethlehem while 9 months pregnant alone would have raised a few questions and complaints from me, personally.)
Now that I’m feeling better and able to do more, it’s tempting to let the perfectionistic mindset creep back in. After all, we have less than 2.5 months until our due date, and there’s still so much to be done. (Set up the nursery! Find pediatrician! Make a birth plan! Prep freezer meals! Write thank-you notes for the baby shower! Pack the hospital bag! Get everything ready for my maternity leave! Finally organize that one closet that’s been driving me nuts!) It’s endless, and not all of it will get done, especially with the holidays coming up. I’m trying my best to stay calm and remember that, as I mentioned on Instagram the other day, mothers may do these tasks, but these tasks do not comprise the actual work of mothering. (You can read the full post below.)
Mary, Queen of the Family, pray for us!
St. Joseph, Protector of the Family, pray for us!
St. John Paul II, pray for us!
Turning the Paige 