the expectations of a mom-to-be

i want to become a mother but i still want to be me

Almost two years ago, I wrote a piece called the disregard for the template life.

I talked about how in many ways, I have opted for this template life — finishing school, starting a career, getting married, buying a house… And fast forward to now, making the choice to become a mom.

In embarking on this journey, I’ve come to realize that for some, it’s not enough to check all of these boxes, but that it’s done in way that is expected and deemed acceptable. I’ve learned that before motherhood even begins, people have ideas of what that journey to motherhood should look like.

From the beginning, I quickly understood that there was an expected way on how one should feel and act once pregnant. When my partner and I began (reluctantly) sharing the news to family and close friends, one laughed at me saying that I was so awkward about it — that I change the subject whenever someone would ask me about my pregnancy. I completely understood because I really did and do still feel awkward about it — even after months of being pregnant. To be honest, I feel uncomfortable receiving so much attention and excitement for something that could go terribly wrong. While I am so happy and feel so fortunate to have the privilege to be this far along, I feel just as anxious, cautious and scared — putting me at a sort of net neutral. Before being pregnant this time around, I had an early miscarriage and I know women who have suffered major losses during their pregnancies and women who have difficulty becoming pregnant to start with. I don’t take my position for granted and I take the risks and complications that come with pregnancy very seriously.

I am grateful that for the most part, I am fine and healthy and that so far, the little human growing inside of me is seemingly fine and healthy, too. And I am grateful that I get to experience “being in the closest possible physical relationship with another being… one of the most enlivening, wild and interesting experiences of my life,” as Lucy Jones puts it in Matrescence, the book I’m currently reading. Even so, that doesn’t make it any easier for me to feel or show excitement in the way others are be able to. I am often told to “enjoy every minute” and while I want to (and believe me, I want to!!!), for me, it’s not that simple.

I luckily have had a fairly easy pregnancy, all things considered, but that doesn’t negate the complexities of change that I’ve undergone in the past months — not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. I knew my body would change and grow and expand, but I didn’t know that there would be extreme fatigue, carpal tunnel, sciatica pain, random face rashes, nosebleeds, horrendous acid reflux and becoming out of breath after walking up one flight of stairs — just to name a few “normal” symptoms. I assumed I would think and feel differently, but never thought I would be affected by perinatal depression — something I didn’t know existed until this week and something I suspect I’ve recently been experiencing with my random bouts of crying, loss of interest in hobbies and socializing and sporadic feelings of sadness, guilt and irritation. I didn’t anticipate the amount of tests and bloodwork and with that, the periods of anxiously waiting for results that would tell me if me and my baby are healthy or not. And in general, dealing with the range of emotions that come when thinking about the remainder of pregnancy, actual childbirth and — if all goes well — having a human to care for and raise for the rest of my life. Even if I reel it in and bring it back to just pregnancy itself, there’s still a lot left to go before I feel like I can comfortably express some sort of celebration.

At first I wondered if I was a pessimistic freak for being worried about all of these things, but after talking to friends and other moms, I learned many of them actually felt similarly. So why is it that I’m “awkward” about pregnancy, when so many feel the same? Why was I the subject of that observation when my partner feels — and acts — just as awkward, if not more? Is it because expectant mothers are presumed to act a certain way — happy, excited, serene, cheerful? Or is it because I let my complex emotions be known? The feelings I have surrounding this new life change is so nuanced and it would be disingenuous for me to act otherwise. Yet it’s questioned because there does seem to be an idea of how of a mom-to-be should feel and act.