That I will get pregnant.
I know, I know, what on earth am I on about? Am I posting this on the wrong blog by mistake? It must sound positively daft after my declarations of being ready to just do it despite the practicalities of our life situation not being exactly ideal. But, it’s also very, very true.
We have a really nice life. We also have a very busy and pretty tough life, where some evenings we can just about manage a cuddle and chat on the sofa, before one of us is snoring into the armpits of the other. However, our busy days (and, not infrequently, nights) mean that we earn enough money to keep ourselves housed, fed, clothed, and entertained, with a little left over most months to put aside for our future. And when we really need to hold a small, soft, sometimes-pretends-to-be-vulnerable creature, we even have the cat, who is always willing to comply. So with all of that good fortune (and I know how lucky we are, especially in this economic climate), we seem to have hammered out a really happy balance for our tiny family. Just.
Which brings to mind that wise old adage: if it ain’t broke… why the heck would we want to go and royally fuck with what we’ve got? I keep asking myself the question…
Enough as that is in itself to give me palpitations and keep me awake at night, that’s not all. I haven’t even started on the what ifs yet:
- What if I do get pregnant, but can’t stay that way, and have repeated miscarriages? How many will be too many? How will we cope with the loss?
- What if I do get pregnant, but we learn partway through that there is something terribly wrong with the baby? Both of us are pretty sure that we couldn’t cope with having a child who we knew would be born with very serious problems, but how serious is very serious? Where do you draw that line in the sand? Does that make us totally selfish assholes?
- What if I do get pregnant, and I’m really ill, or have a really difficult pregnancy? How would I manage with my job? How would I cope on my own during the week, with a husband living two hours away?
- What if I do get pregnant, and everything is just fine and dandy and normal? How the heck would I still cope on my own during the week? Who will rub my feet, or my back, or my belly? Who will make me dinner when I come home in the evening and promptly fall asleep on the sofa? What will happen to me when I get too big to get out of the bathtub on my own? Does the fire brigade come to rescue naked, slippery, stuck, pregnant ladies?*
And so it goes on, and on, and on, each one more ridiculous than the last, but each one fueling The Fear, and adding to that little knot in the pit of my stomach that can paralyse me entirely if I look it straight in the eye. And I know in my head how unhelpful what ifs are, and how useless it is to surmise over vaguely theoretical possibilities, but my heart just can’t stop them coming. So, it’s no wonder that some evenings one of us will say, usually in response to some antic or other of the cat, ‘Oh, that will be so much harder to do/undo when there’s a baby!’ And then I’ll snicker nervously and ask the Boy whether we really shouldn’t just get a dog instead?**
I know there’s nothing else to do but take the giant leap of faith that parenthood requires, and trust that our relationship is robust enough, and that we will survive and adapt, and that things will be OK. In fact, that they will be more than OK, because having children will add so much to what we already have. (I’m a firm believer in that, for sure.) And I’m certain that the fact that neither of us has shown any reluctance at all to, erm, get on top of it, so to speak, is testament to the lack of any real ambivalence about our decision.
But, still, this thing, it is huge. And there’s no denying the fact that at times it absolutely terrifies me.
*Missing that village again…
**He hasn’t said yes yet.
My god, yes yes yes yes. And then my mind runs on from there to, you know, actually having the baby. All the time. What if I’m total crap at that part?
Or maybe that’s part II of the post. I shall keep panic to myself until then.
Funnily enough, I’m not so afraid of that bit. I’m sure I’ll write more about it later, but I’ve let go of the notion of being a perfect mother, and just hope I’ll do OK, y’know? I think doing that was part of the process of becoming ready in the first place, for me at any rate.
it’s like these fears that I have now are a wall, a barrier, and once I get through them, I think I’ll actually be OK. I have no idea if any of that makes any sense.
Hey, girl.
i read the quote below on a Starbucks cup once. i put it in my Blackberry, thinking that I might need to refer to it one day.
i think this is that one day.
Here it is:
“The irony of commitment is that it’s deeply liberating — in work, in play, in love. The act frees you from the tyranny of your internal critic, from the fear** that like to dress itself up and parade around as rational hesitation. To commit is to remove your head as the barrier to your life.”
–Anne Morris, Starbucks customer from NYC. She describes herself as an ‘organization builder, restless American citizen, optimist.
**[the fact that the quote actually contained the words "the fear" and that was the title of your post blew my mind.]
YES. I think this is what I meant when I said what I said in reply to Kristi above. I guess once I’m there, pregnant, and committed, instead of here, thinking about it and uncertain, I will be freed from these fears. I wanted to write about them because I’m sure they don’t only happen to me. But thank you for that quote, it is wonderful.
The quote before me is brilliant. I don’t plan on facing what you’re facing anytime soon (if ever….) but I wanted to pass along a hug to a lady that continues to inspire me. Little ones are serious business, and you are definitely not alone in your reservations.
While I don’t have any say on what may or may not happen before, I know that you’ll be an excellent, caring, wise mother.
I think the fear is pretty normal – after all, here you are, embarking on something new and pretty life-altering. And that does bring a lot of things to contemplate. But if any of those things happen, you’ll find a way to deal with them – in a way, being detached from it all and thinking “what if” about something yet to happen makes them all a lot more fearful than if you were actually going through any one of those.
Oh, do I understand… I felt pretty much the same about having our second child; if it ain’t broke…
These fears are normal! Right now it’s scary, because it’s *the unknown*. Once you get pregnant, it will start to become *the reality*. In tiny bits, it will fall into place. No, your life won’t be the same, but you won’t really regret that. I promise. I swear, even. Change is good.
* What if I do get pregnant, but can’t stay that way, and have repeated miscarriages? How many will be too many? How will we cope with the loss?
The chances of that are low. It’s still possible though, and that’s why I tried to always keep that in mind the two times I peed on a stick to positive results. If that’s your path, you will. Cope with the loss. You’ll find it really hard, but you’ll find the strength in you, just like you will to go through the craziness of a new baby. You won’t know how you did it but you will. And bear in mind, heartbreaking infertility stories without a happy ending are few, in my experience. For most people, it does end up working in some way (even through adoption), and then it all makes sense somehow.
* What if I do get pregnant, but we learn partway through that there is something terribly wrong with the baby? Both of us are pretty sure that we couldn’t cope with having a child who we knew would be born with very serious problems, but how serious is very serious? Where do you draw that line in the sand? Does that make us totally selfish assholes?
The chances are also quite low, and at some point, you have to trust that it will be alright and not give in to fear. Based on my age alone (35) my doctor told me I had 1 in 300 chances of having a baby with Down syndrome. I thought this was really high and was concerned about it. After I got tested it ended up being 1 in 1,500, which is even lower than a lot of women in their early twenties. We also knew we couldn’t deal with that, period. You have to feel secure about these choices that truly impact your life forever and know your own limits. And about drawing the line, you’ll know. When in the situation, I believe you just know what feels right and what doesn’t.
* What if I do get pregnant, and I’m really ill, or have a really difficult pregnancy? How would I manage with my job? How would I cope on my own during the week, with a husband living two hours away?
You’ll do it. You’ll feel absolutely miserable (or not, it wasn’t that bad for me both times), but you’ll go through it day by day. If it’s too bad or you have complications, you’ll stop working or reduce your hours or something, that’s all. There are some situations in life that are simply greater than the usual routine. I just don’t know what to say about your husband being away though
* What if I do get pregnant, and everything is just fine and dandy and normal? How the heck would I still cope on my own during the week? Who will rub my feet, or my back, or my belly? Who will make me dinner when I come home in the evening and promptly fall asleep on the sofa? What will happen to me when I get too big to get out of the bathtub on my own? Does the fire brigade come to rescue naked, slippery, stuck, pregnant ladies?*
You’ll order take out. And moan to the cat. And take showers.
And most irrationally of all:
* What if I do get pregnant and God rains down some unspeakably hideous divine punishment, involving fire and brimstone and a lifetime of misery, because the first time round, I took matters into my own hands? (A Catholic upbringing is a very, very difficult one to recover from…)
I also had a Catholic upbringing and totally understand how you feel, but please. I have dozens of stories to share where it was DEFINITELY NOT the case. No causality effect whatsoever. But that damn education is always screwing up our minds, isn’t it?
Oh Marie-Eve, THANK YOU FOR THIS. It’s so helpful hearing from someone who’s been through it, and survived it (enough to do it again! Yippee!). I’m going to come back to this comment of yours again and again when it all gets too much.
How funny that you posted about this RIGHT after I had a conversation about the same things with one of my best friends. She & her husband want to start trying in December or January; we would ideally like to wait until DJ is finished with law school. I fell into the what-ifs and finally just had to come to the conclusion that regardless what happens, we’ll deal with it. And that everything is scarier because it is, as Marie-Eve said, the unknown.
It definitely helps to talk about it, though, because it’s highly unlikely that your what-ifs are much different from mine. And then lovely people like Marie-Eve can chime in with logical, rational thoughts born from experience to (hopefully) calm the fears we have.
(You’re not selfish assholes. Some of those what-ifs are really hard questions and you have to talk about them. Because what if? You might not know how you’ll actually respond should the situation present itself, but thinking about it can prepare you a little bit, at least.)
Thank you for your thoughts and reassurances guys. They mean a LOT.
The scariest things sometimes turn out to be the best things, later. And let me just say: of course you are scared, this shit is scary! Take it as a good sign – if you weren’t scared then you wouldn’t be smart enough to know the enormity of your decision and the changes. The Fear, as terrible as it is, is also an indication that you, wise as you are, are going into this with your eyes open and are considering what it means. Which isn’t a bad thing at all (as long as you balance it with the “devil-may-care” attitude you talk about, at least some of the time).
Thank you Kristy! Your comments are always wholly appreciated…
Just… I know how you feel. And when you get all “what-iffy” just remember: right now, everything is ok.
Miscarriages-I had at least 8 and much testing at the large teaching regional medical center before the little OB/GYN in my small town decided to give me progesterone shots. For me, one miscarriage was too many. In my bed at night, I cried for my babies who never saw the light of day.
If you are told that something is wrong with your baby then look up the stats for accuracy of tests. Will you take the chance that the 1 in 100 unborns who are false positive might be yours?
You will be okay. Things work out. Worry is fruitless, planning for the future is not.
You will be fine without your husband. You do not need your feet rubbed but if you really find it necessary then go to a reflexologist who will do it better than your husband ever could. Occupy your time reading baby books and Skype him often. I gained 70 lbs and was still able to get out of the tub but remember, no very hot baths.
And, finally, your Catholic guilt. God forgives, just ask Him. A bigger question might be, have you forgiven yourself?
It took me a long time to be able to answer that question with any kind of certainty, but yes, I have.
And gosh, 8 miscarriages. I’m so sorry to hear that. It’s sounds like you walked a hard road to get to where you now are. But you’re right, I will be fine. And I’ll find myself one darn talented reflexologist.
I love you ladies.
I had almost all of those fears too but spread out over 4 years they sort of dissipated along the way. Which leads me to think that given enough time they would dissipate for most people, so for now you just have to acknowledge them when they pop up then put them away in a box. Or read Marie-Eve’s comment, which is endlessly inspiring and wonderful and sensible.
And get bath handles installed.
Thank god for people who get it. I could have written this (although perhaps not as well!). I keep wondering if I am, when I will know, what my body is saying and torn between not wanting it to happen and hoping it does. I think after a few months it might get easier? I hope it does, all this analysing is driving me loopy
(that’s my analysing not yours btw)
It *does* get better. The ‘madness’ waxes and wanes, depending on circumstance, but in general, the trend is toward sanity.
I hear you on all these fears, and more, even if I’m already sort of starting infertility treatment. Mostly I add to this that I am freaked out that I will have to take hormones that make me a raging crazy-person who cries at work or can’t handle students. This feels like a palpable and entirely possible scenario to me, and I’m not really in a situation where I could go part-time (I already asked, HR says IVF isn’t an illness which I guess makes sense but, oh, the terror!). Or that I’ll be a crazy hormonal insane pregnant lady who also can’t handle the above. So either way, scary.