When I see this picture, two things run through my mind: "Wonder of wonders, miracles of miracles!" (for those Fiddler on the Roof fans out there) but also to quote the beautiful Amy Poehler, "It's all ridiculous and incredibly sci-fi."
Sometimes I think gaze fondly at the picture of the little bean shape thing in my abdomen, and other times I look on with a mix of horror and befuddlement. Why is this how reproduction works? We learn about where babies come from when we're 8 years old and maybe when we're a kid we think it's gross. Then we "grow-up" and then it's just a part of life. And BAM, it happens to you and you're 8 years old again and thinking "This is actually a really weird thing."
This really weird thing is something I am so grateful for though. I have close friends struggling with infertility and I am well aware how lucky I am. I've thought about this a lot. God hasn't specifically trusted me over someone else to have this baby. There are many women who come to mind who will make remarkable mothers someday but haven't had that opportunity yet. They strive to do what is right, they are beautiful daughters of God, and bring a lot of light and joy to this world. When I found out I was pregnant, my first thought was about how ill-prepared I am for motherhood. I thought of those wonderful women I look up to so much, and how unfair it is that I get this opportunity before them. It seems unfair that this hot mess over here gets to have a baby in her while others much more equipped are left to wait. Yes, every child is a blessing, but I am not more blessed. Pregnancy is not a reward for great faith or some good work, and it's crucial in this modern era of social media posting about every good thing that happens to us, to recognize that.
Don't mistake: I am elated to be pregnant. But it also felt like it came completely out of left field. Back in November I briefly wrote about the difficulties we were having to start a family. I felt that was the beginning of our journey, and lo and behold: I was already growing a human. I was utterly astounded as I saw that solid second line indicating I was pregnant. I wasn't taking a pregnancy test to see if I was pregnant. I wasn't expecting to be pregnant. It was just part of the routine I was on to try to figure out what was going on with my body. Do whatever the doc tells me what to do for one cycle. Make sure there's no baby. Go back to doctor and repeat. There was nothing promising in any of my test results for about 8 months, and I wasn't holding my breath. I was convinced my first positive was one of those false positives you hear about. So I took another one. It's really rare to have ONE false positive, so with two I assumed I was somehow pregnant. However, I was convinced it was a ectopic pregnancy or a chemical pregnancy, and waited with bated breath for the sign of blood.
It didn't come. I even called my clinic to run blood tests. They were confused about why I was calling and wanted to be tested. I think they thought I didn't want to be pregnant; I kept asking things like "but what if it's not viable?" It just didn't seem possible to me because my previous tests indicated I wasn't ovulating at all. I honestly was expecting a miscarriage until I heard the thrum-thrum-thrum of its heartbeat in our first ultrasound. What a weird noise to represent such a miracle! That's when it felt real. (This is a big deal because when a heartbeat is detected, the chance of miscarriage drops by 70%.)
While some take the heartbeat as when it's socially acceptable to tell people about the pregnancy, I hesitated. I really didn't want to. It all feels so private and personal, and I wanted to soak it all up, just me and my husband. It became evident that our family needed to know, since I was reaching the peak of my food aversion and morning sickness right when we would be around them for Christmas vacation and I wanted to tell them before showing obvious signs of it. But I wanted to cherish the secret, wrap it up in the tissue paper of my choosing and hide it from the Mommy Bloggers, and people who want to see pictures of my insides and those who want to touch my belly and who want to tell me how I have no idea what I'm in for and want to shower me with their unsolicited opinions. I wanted to keep it between my husband and I. In fact, for the past several months I have been quite hermit-ish. I just wanted to roll up in a soft blanket, read, avoid all human contact, and just feel the miracle of my abdomen making space for an infant to grow. To quote Amy Poehler once again (last time, I promise):
"I didn't tell anyone at first, as you are supposed to keep it secret. It's a really magical time, those first few weeks. It almost makes you wish you didn't have to tell anyone, ever. You could just watch your belly grow bigger and no one would be allowed to ask about it and you would have your baby and a year later you would allow visitors to finally come and meet your little miracle."
But this is not just about me. It's about my husband too, and my sweet husband has been so patient. He was so excited to tell people, and I wanted people to know that Vaughn finally gets to be a father. He's going to be a great one. We told our families. We told some close friends. That felt safe. Then we made it public, and it felt very jarring and invasive. I don't mean this to sound like it was a bad thing. I don't regret the timing. I was just surprised. I had never realized how much it places any woman in an extremely vulnerable position though. This knowledge gives you a keyhole view into something beautiful, miraculous, and private. Please be kind. This is new for me. For us, my husband and I. And allow us the space to ride this roller coaster called pregnancy as we choose.
I have appreciated all the support and love we have felt. There has truly been an outpouring of love that has made my heart swell. Thank you.
