Pregnancy Diary

 I came across this writing today, from my pregnancy. 

My son is a year and half old now. 

I still struggle with mourning the life I had before. 

I still struggle with people patronizing me with bumper sticker wisdom cliche's. 

And at the time, I was too guilty to share this. 

But I'm not now. 

There are others who are not being heard. 

And I want you to know that I get it. 

photo credit Akoma Photography 

I’m not sure why I’m writing this. 

 

Or whether I’ll post it. 

 

But there’s a voice inside of me crying out to be heard and seems like it won’t silence until I process through this. 

 

Writing this openly makes me feel embarrassed, perhaps even ashamed of myself that I would give voice to this. 

 

Perhaps someone else reading this will understand- perhaps there are others that aren’t speaking for the same reason that I haven’t. 

 

Judgment. 

 

Judgment from others and mostly- judgment on myself. 

 

I remember the day I read the pregnancy test. 

 

The deepest experiences in my lifetime- whether good and bad- I’ve held in silence; and I sat in silence. 

 

My personal beliefs are that women have the choice to complete pregnancy or not; and as I stared at those pink lines- I knew that I was at free choice. 

 

But… that doesn’t mean it’s easy. Being at free choice doesn’t mean I’ve been joyful and dancing in meadows with Daisy Braided Crowns.

 

We learned that IF we continued the pregnancy with the in-tact IUD, it could cause birth defects and was best to have the device removed.

 

What was supposed to be simple- wasn’t. 

 

After a failed attempt to remove, I set up a follow up appointment with a more intensive process and signed waivers stating that I understood that the more invasive procedure would most likely prompt a miscarriage.

 

 

For the next few weeks, with the IUD still inside, my body was in constant indecision as to whether or not I would carry the baby. Simultaneously I was experiencing pregnancy symptoms and bleeding off and on. Every time the bleeding began- we wondered “Is this it?”

 

My best friend, Autumn came with me to the follow up appointment, when I got into the passenger seat of her car to head to the doctor, I closed the door and began openly crying. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “It’s just a lot,” I gasped through breaths; “Either way, it’s a lot.” Autumn stayed with me through the procedure to remove the IUD, prayed with me, and held my hand throughout.

 

“You’re having a boy.” She told me 

 

Our baby survived.

 

We called my parents and posted on social media. 

 

The news was out. 

 

A FLOOD of love and support came towards us. 

We were bombarded with outpouring of joy that was humbling and encouraging. 

 

It was also surreal.

People were saying “Congratulations” and I didn’t know how to receive it. 

 

A few weeks after our news was public; a “friend” of mine texted me sharing how insensitive it was for me to share about my pregnancy- to be posting about it. She accused me of not telling her earlier- keeping secrets. She should have been told personally not on social media. 

 

After all, she said, I knew how hard it was for HER to go through the pregnancy journeys she had and how dare I. 

She made the “diplomatic” (speckled with Four Letter Words) offer to meet for coffee so we could “have it all out on the table once and for all.” She expected an apology.

 

I declined.  

 

Our friendship ended that day.

 

Meanwhile, at work, getting through mundane projects became like climbing Everest. 

Juggling work duties through constant fatigue, blood loss, and nausea was daunting.

 

A woman at work spread a rumor among the staff in hopes to get me fired.

 

The woman later confided in a coworker that she was just angry at me because she and her husband had been trying unsuccessfully to conceive for over a year. It was unfair that I had gotten pregnant so "easily."

 

Like I said, I don’t know why I’m sharing all of this right now. 

If you are hanging in through the story- thanks for making it this far. 

 

Fast forward through the pregnancy… 

 

Have you ever heard a song that plays unexpectedly on the radio and immediately you are transported through time to a memory that you have that song attached to?

 

Or have you eaten a dessert you haven’t had since you were a kid, and all of a sudden you’re 9 years old at a summer picnic again with family?

 

Third trimester pregnancy is like that with me. 

 

My toddler son passed away when I was 5 months pregnant with my third child.

 

I feel like I’m reliving that loss and trauma day by day. 

 

I have PTSD. And sometimes, I can’t organize time. I can’t separate THIS time and distinguish THIS time versus fifteen years ago. 

 

I wake up at night or in a morning FOG unsure of where I am and what is happening. Is this now? Is this then? Is this real?

 

Did Jonah just die? What year is it?

 

The sadness and confusion is like an ocean wave that pulls you under and won’t let you come up for air. 

 

I walk down the corridors at the hospital for the current pregnancy monitoring I’m doing and I “see” the long walks I took back then.

 

I meet with the Doctor for appointments and I hear all the same words about baby measurements and ultrasound and delivery date- and it’s like a mist falls over me and I have to remind myself- “THIS IS NOW. This is not then.”

 

I pack the hospital bags and get the baby blankets and I re-live the mourning of my son.

 

Pregnancy feels like torture to me. 

 

My emotional, physical, and financial balance has been obliterated. 

 

Trying to explain to my husband the other day I shared “I can’t eat what I want, work when I want, physically do what I want to do, sleep when I want… I feel completely helpless.”

 

I decided to post about pregnancy and the journey openly on my Instagram page, and I’m glad I’ve done the stretch. I feel like it’s assisted me in acceptance and skimming through the photos of progression is healing in a way.

 

Maybe that’s why I’m writing this too. 

I know there are women who feel fabulous when they are pregnant. I see the Instagram posts of so many other women who are doing the fitness thing and beauty photos…

 

I HATE the way I look pregnant. 

I’m not exaggerating. 

I don’t feel beautiful. 

I feel powerless. 

My body is morphing, contorting; and I have no control over it. 

 

I look at my closet of clothes and can’t wear what I like to wear. 

I don’t have the energy to do what I like to do.

I’m working half as much and have cancelled almost every extra thing I typically do- all of the things that I identify “THIS IS KATIE” as. 

 

People say this is temporary.

My mind logically knows this is temporary.

But it’s beyond pregnancy. 

 

My life is changing.

My life is being turned upside down. 

I don’t know if my body will come back. 

I don’t know if my career will continue. 

I don’t know what free time I will have. 

 

And, no one can do this for me. 

No one feels what I feel. No one can deliver the baby in my womb but me.

No one can take a "shift" for a day. 

No one can understand what this experience is for me.

I have friends and a spouse and children that are loving and supportive and doing everything I could possibly ask of them to do- and I feel more alone than I can remember feeling. 

A baby moves inside of me- I am never alone and yet- I feel so far out in the abyss and lost it’s all I can see, hear, touch, and experience right now.