about

I’ve been inspired to write these pages for those of us who are starting a new life with fear and awe and anxiety … and nausea.
Those of us who may not have planned to spend the next nine months in limbo.

Welcome to Pregnatory.

pregŸ•na•ŸtoŸr•y  |ˈpregətorē |
noun ( pl. pregnatories )
the condition or period of being pregnant, lasting up to 10 months during which time one suspends normal life, aspires to heaven and faces a physical hell:  she briefly celebrated her positive pregnancy test before she hurtled in to months of pregnatory. 

My future plans involved a sweet-ass ski trip this winter and cocktails and sushi this Saturday.   This plan did not involve any tiny, crying, pooping people.  Nor did it involve nausea, headaches, weight gain and stretch marks.   So… plans change.
I’ve assumed I’m not the only woman on earth who didn’t play with dolls and name her future offspring when she was 5.  I assume I’m not the only woman on earth who hasn’t anticipated this:   for many optimistic years.

I can’t be the only one who hasn’t already bought a house with a nursery and moved in to a good neighborhood that buses to the right school.  There must be others who see all the colors and think in black and white (and the greys in between) and not just in pink and blue? Others who’s futures focused on what her passion and intellect might give to the world without considering a contribution from her uterus.  Others who return the question “are you going to breastfeed?” with “Dunno.  what are the options??”  Is there anyone else who shudders and vomits in her throat just a little bit when they consider making a purchase from a store called ‘Giggles’?????

I can’t be alone.

The world of baby-making is all pastel, less some very stark, black and white print outs with doctors orders (read as: restrictions).   Can we notice that even the stick you urinate on is pink?  The physical act of making a baby in your groin is often very grey and various shades of green.  Though we can find some very straight-talking publications, even amusing ones, it’s reliable that the books and endless advice are all “wonderous” and “amazing” and especially “blessing” when in fact, on many days, this total transformation of our physical selves feels something short of “a blessing.”   I feel that the culture surrounding pregnancy is somewhat silent on the grey?   I’m not the silent type.  I am prepared to be judged.   and I’m poignantly aware of the many families who struggle to get pregnant, go through years of fertility issues and make apparent the miracle of conception when it does happen.  These women inspire and have helped me understand how childbearing is essential to life….but once you were pregnant…didn’t you occasionally, very seriously want to smack those fertility doctors in the face and down a scotch on the rocks? Don’t we deserve a place to share not just the moments of wonder, but the moments of “F this.  I want my body back.”  Might those not, in fact, be the moments in which we need empathy and support the most?

Perhaps you’re far better than I.  You nurture an eternal fountain of positivity.  I’m admittedly prone to cynicism, recognized for sharp criticism. And the inappropriate, off-color remark.  I also curse like a hobo.  Still, I’d like to think, that some stark realism is the ultimate positivity.  I’m a cup half-full kind of gal…but I’d tend to check the contents first.  who wants a cup half full of horse nuts?

So, if you’re at all like me, You’d like to think that ‘what you are’ didn’t just become ‘what you were’ when you peed on that stick.  Maybe every single moment of this journey is not a total blessing.  Maybe some days it sucks.  Maybe you shouldn’t feel or be made to feel like you’re selfish because you’ve wanted (and still want) a productive and fulfilling life for yourself as a woman and not only as a mother to a child you haven’t met yet.  Maybe you never took for granted the equation woman = mother.  Maybe you don’t want the whole world to speak to you differently (even if it is more kind and caring) because you’re carrying a new person.  Maybe you’d like it if someone asked you ‘how was work today?’ before they asked ‘how’s the new mama??’  Maybe you’d just really like a tall glass of wine.

But you’re doing it anyway.  And you’re not just doing it: you’re reading books and changing plans; you’re following doctors orders and keeping those appointments; you felt warm and optimistic when you saw that first sonogram; you’re reading this.  You’re going to be an awesome mother – one that’s learned from all her mistakes and the mistakes made before her; one that’s put thought in to what being a mother means; one that isn’t pursuing the fairytale she conjured in her playroom – 0ne that’s pursuing life.
You’re a warrior.
I think you’re strong.  I think you’re a blessing.  You’ve taken this gift, whether or not it’s the one you wanted at first, said thank you and meant it.   You’ve allowed yourself to want something different.  You adapt.  You grow.  You’re true. You’re a hero.
(can you picture me saying this to myself in the mirror every morning?)

And since you’re a blessing, I believe you deserve a place to not only celebrate, but occasionally commiserate.  To be sour and scared and unsure and fat.  To be real.  To be not ‘blessing’ all the time.  Occasionally we be cursing.

My pregnancy is eliciting a streaming outflow of ramblings in a journal such as I hadn’t seen since I was 16.   Perhaps this adolescent outflow is entirely, even the most appropriate response to my experience of my changing body, hormones, moods and uncertainty for the future. Awesome. I’m 16 again. There’s a whopping ‘please like me, I hate my body’ good time.  Fitting.
When it was suggested I share this outpouring on the world wide INterWeb, I saw an opportunity to share and to learn from other women who might be having the same experience.  The one we don’t typically share.  The one that’s frustrated and wants to gorge on unpasteurized cheese.  The one that doesn’t want to take 3 months off to have a baby.  The one that’s getting used to the idea.  The one that has everything to learn and wants advice and uncensored truth from the front lines.  The one that needs more than the brass tacks of what’s going on with her body.  The one that also needs to navigate the emotional landscape of the journey. The one that needs to feel normal when nothing is.

here it is.

There are many exciting, inspiring and encouraging moments here in Pregnatory.  You may have to weed through some limbo along the way, however.  I’ve been promised to rest assured that I will get called up from the waiting room  and arrive at the other side.  I’ve heard it’s pretty awesome there.

enjoy the ride.