At the beginning of this pregnancy, I had this intense feeling that this pregnancy would be hard. I didn’t know what that would look like, but I just knew it would be a lot harder than Little Monkey’s. Sure enough, I hit 6 weeks, and HELLLLOOO nausea. That lasted, well, I’m still dealing with random nausea off and on and I’m 26 weeks today. Then at 16 weeks, I started bleeding from a placenta previa, which meant low activity levels for several weeks to give it a chance to shift. By 20 weeks, placenta previa was no longer an issue, but instead we were facing an entirely new set of difficulties.
My little bear has Spina Bifida, and that meant and entirely new perspective on this pregnancy. I went from preparing for what I had hoped would be a natural birth, working with midwives, a doula, to now a planned c-section at Children’s hospital, where my little bear will be taken directly to the NICU upon delivery. While I don’t have any issues with having a c-section, it’s the whole major shifting of what to expect with this pregnancy. Instead of going in for regular midwife appointments, I’ve had more ultrasounds than I can count, a fetal MRI, blood tests, an amniocentesis done, and there are still more tests and ultrasounds coming before he’s born. I am now the 1 in 1000 who’s baby has a serious condition. This has been hard, really hard with watching so many other friends around me carrying and delivering healthy babies. Babies they get to take home after 24-48 hours. Babies they get to snuggle and hold tight within seconds of being born. Babies who are whole, healthy, and dare I say, normal?
Sure, some days are a lot worse than others. Some days are actually okay days and I feel like I can manage without feeling like I’m drowning. The hardest part isn’t that I don’t think we’ll be able to do this, no that’s not it. I know we’re really going to be okay. Phil and I are in this together, we have a lot of support already, and I have the resources I need from moms who have gone before me in this specific journey. But there is a part of all of this that makes me feel very frustrated. I know there are other mamas out there who have gotten this same terrifying diagnoses. I know there are other mamas who have and will stand anxiously besides that NICU crib watching their newborn. We live in a culture that tries to silence the difficult. We live in a culture full of people who don’t want to face the hard, tearful stories of those who don’t have the same stories. Because of the culture we live in, I want to break the silence and really talk about what this has been like and what it’s going to be like finding out my son has a serious condition.
My depression has been hard over the past month. I already have an underlying depression that while I can manage it quite well, peaks every so often. With this whole shift in my pregnancy, well, let’s just say this is the highest it’s peaked in a long time. I have coping techniques, but when combined with the approaching third trimester fatigue, feeling like I’m drowning under the constant inflow of information, it’s been a bit much. The story of my life has never fit inside the “normal” box. I do not fit norms. I never have. And with this pregnancy, it is once again on the outside of those norms. When mentioning this to my mentor, her response was to tell me that maybe I’m supposed to go against the norms in order to create new norms. So maybe that’s my job in this life. That’s what I’m called to do.
I’m hoping over the coming months as I start to prepare for the planned c-section and the following who-knows-how-long NICU stay, I will be able to share things that are helping me. For now, I am clinging to movement little bear has in the womb, and the fact that I already feel a deep, strong connection to him. I still have days where I wake up and hope this is all a dream, but it isn’t, and I will face whatever may come.