‘Ohmygoodnessthebabyregisteryneedsbedonenolaterthantwentyfiveweeks!’
was all I could think of. When I
was pregnant with my first daughter I was nothing less than neurotic, a tad bit
controlling and a little too unrealistic.
Aside from the excitement that I was growing a uterus-encapsulated
little being, there was the planning and the baby gear and all the stuff that
had to be pondered, tested, chosen and registered for.
Since I didn’t want to
know the sex of the baby in advance, I also had to consider the gender-neutral
baby shower themes. Serious
stuff. Lastly, there was also the baby’s
room that needed decorating. I had so much to do and less than forty weeks to
do them. There was no time for
lounging around.
I had thirty-four weeks
from the time I learned that I was going to squat and pop a baby out, to get
things done. Not only was I
gestating a soon to be chubby footed little being but I was also gestating my
incessant neurosis about gestating the soon to be chubby little toes. There were several other obsessions
that I probably could have done without nevertheless, I was hormonally
challenged and overly concerned and whisking these two ingredients together did
not make a good baby-growing recipe for this gestating mama.
I’ve often
wondered if there was really anything I could have done differently. After having had two subsequent births,
I believe that there could have been a few. Looking back, perhaps there were at least five things that I
believe contributed to my shortened gestation and the wildly unexpected early
arrival of my first daughter.
My Sabrina born at 34 weeks. 1.8.04
- Not to obsess so much over my gestating weeks
I was never satisfied with
any pregnancy week. I’d peruse my
pregnancy calendar every other day counting down the days until the next week
was approaching. I couldn’t wait
to be two more weeks pregnant and then more four weeks pregnant and so on and
so forth. I was in a gestating
marathon. I rarely stopped to
enjoy the week I was actually experiencing because it seemed more important to
prepare for the next. I’d mention
to my husband, ‘We’re almost twenty-weeks, I can’t wait!’ and he’d always look
at me like I was clearly insane.
My having to wait for yet another Sunday so I could take my Sharpie and
scratch a line through the completed week on my calendar was like making me
wait in long line for a vanilla and hot fudge sundae. Not fun.
- Not to be over-confident about my birth plan
I had the perfect
plan. I knew exactly where my baby
was going to be born. I thought
that because I was planning on having my baby at home with a midwife, I was definitely
immune to anything ‘not going as planned.’ I mean, what can possibly go wrong when you’re absolutely
positive about your birth plan right? WRONG. I was delusional, ignorant and inexperienced for not being
realistic about ‘what ifs’. Most
things are unknown and especially in pregnancy. Fetuses are not a little genie in a belly that’ll grant your
wishes. Fetuses definitely
have their own agendas. Believe
me. I believe that if I had had
the wherewithal to be more realistic, I would have had less angst about my baby
being born prematurely. Plus, I
would have experienced the, ‘I. Am. So. Over. This.’ syndrome.
- Not to ignore all the signs
Is that a sign? ‘Eh, what
the heck, ignore it. I’m not a
drama mama!’ I ignored all the
signs. I ignored the fact that I
was too tired to walk another ten minutes. I ignored the severe lower back pain and brushed it off as
‘well, this comes with pregnancy.’
I ignored the menstrual like cramps that formed a band around my lower
abdomen and brushed those off as ‘oh, some more Braxton Hicks.’ I ignored my need to rest. I ignored my need to put my feet
up. I ignored my need to drink
more water and my need to sleep more.
I could have also let go of the fact that there was too much dog hair to
pick up in one day, as well as, my incessant need to scrub the grout on the
tile floor for the fourth time in a week.
I simply ignored my need to chill out because the primary thing that was
happening in my uterus was the fact that I was growing a baby and everything
else was secondary. I needed to
listen to my body and my baby but I didn’t.
- Not to stay in a stressful job so long
My job at the time was
beyond stressful. Working for a
female lawyer didn’t always entail the most compassionate regard for the
pregnant female counterpart. I
forced myself to do my job every single day until I was six and a half months
pregnant. I was advised by my
midwife to either shorten my workload or quit. The stress of my work caused numerous physical ailments during
my pregnancy but the worst one of all was the permanent golf ball sized knot I
had on my right shoulder. The pain
was a burning nuisance and the stress inevitably created some havoc in my
uterus, which probably made my baby beg to get the heck out of the dungeon. I
wish I hadn’t taken so long to finally quit.
- Not to worry about my baby’s full term size
I wanted a healthy
baby but not a big one. I created
a phobia about growing a baby that would be too big for me to push out. I’d often mention to my husband and close
relatives how I hoped the baby wouldn’t be too big. I obsessively asked any mom I met how much their baby had
weighed at birth and remember being horrified at the idea of having an eight or
nine pound baby. In my delusional
mind, I was not able to birth a full-term baby. I constantly doubted myself, as well as, the possibility of
actually having to push out a baby over six pounds. Because of my neurosis, I inevitably made my fear a
reality because I went into labor at thirty-four weeks gestation and birthed a
five-pound six-ounce healthy baby girl.
I don’t know that
I really could have reversed any of events that took place during my first
pregnancy. I was a first time mom
dealing with a cascade of emotions, physical changes and an overall sense of
‘could I really be a good mom?’ My
need to control the process of my pregnancy and birth was my own insecurity
about having to face the unknown and surrender to whatever was going to
be. I wasn’t happy about the
‘letting go and letting be’ aspect of my pregnancy or birth because the only
thing I wanted was to be in absolute control, which in the end was foolish of
me. Like the cliché adage says,
‘If I knew then what I know now’ but really, is there ever a way to really
know?
In retrospect, I
understand that we all need to trek down the pregnancy, birthing and motherhood
paths in our own ways. What I
learned was that while I feared, obsessed and ignored some parts of my
pregnancy and pre-term labor, in the end I became aware, accepting and a bit
more prepared the for next the pregnancies. I understand that while there were several factors that
contributed to my pre-term labor and birth, I feel that this first experience
only forced my feet to be tethered to the ground in a way that made me wiser
and much more realistic about being pregnant in general. The truth is, you can never know what
to expect but you can have an idea.
I’m fine with this now but I still wish that I could’ve seen it all
differently.
Remember: November 17th is Premature Awareness Day. Stay tuned for my thoughts of this important day.
