Persephone: Parent

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Reconnecting With Myself

For the past two weeks I’ve withdrawn myself from the outside world a little bit for a number of reasons and I’m wondering if it’s wrong.

Over the past 10 months (9.5 to be exact), I’ve felt under a lot of pressure to do right by everyone socially speaking and I now no longer know if I’m putting myself too high. Or Elvis too low.

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Excitement/Happy?

I’ve been chatting with a fellow mum to be on twitter about being, or not, excited about being pregnant and it got me thinking about when exactly I’ve been excited about my pregnancy.

I remember being nervous wondering if there would be space for me on August’s treatment schedule. I remember blindly trying to believe that hormonal intervention made my period 2 days late rather than hoping it had worked. I remember being nervous and trying to be emotionless as the test went positive.

I remember the nerves waiting for the 7 week scan. I remember the relief and tears as I saw my 7 week old baby with comfortable egg sac and no fears regarding miscarriage. I openly wept in a hospital corridor in pure joy and relief that not only was it not ectopic but my ovaries were not going to lead to needing a termination.

I remember the nerves continuing, not as bad but they did. I remember all the niggles and pains that didn’t go until well over 20 weeks. I remember not feeling comfortable until everyone knew which was 20+ weeks.

But I don’t remember ever really proudly showing off scan pictures. I don’t ever really remember excitedly telling people that it had finally worked, that I was finally pregnant.

I do remember (and still do) gazing at my Alien like moving belly in the bath or on the sofa, talking to him as he still kicks and wriggles. Sometimes I tell him off for hurting me or playing with my hips (it feels weird). Those are the moments I smile in happiness at being pregnant, moments when I know it’s all real, when I know he’s there, but even then it’s not really excitement.

Over the past week my excitement or happiness has been decreasing again. Either through nerves or hormonal shifts, but it is still there buried as deep as it probably always has been.

Everyone experiences pregnancy differently and either because I’m cautious or because it took so much to get here, I don’t want to risk showing my excitement and happiness to anyone other than my husband really.

I publicly announced my pregnancy after 12 weeks and one friend barely even congratulated me, her partner was downright insensitive to me. A few months later at only 6 weeks, she announced her pregnancy to me and honestly expected me to react better than I did. Why should I be more excited for her than she was for me?

I’ll be excited when he’s in my arms. Not because I fear it’ll never happen. Not because the pregnancy’s making me feel like crap. Just… because. And no pregnant woman, or their expectant partner, should be made to feel bad.

Why do people insist on putting such demands on pregnancies? From personal levels of excitement to size of bumps (see earlier post), what’s it got to do with anyone else?

~ Persephone M

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