Everywhere you look, you see photos of expectant mothers who are happy with their round bellies. They look radiant and so pretty. They sell the idea that motherhood is beautiful and enjoyable in every way. But your reality isn’t like that.
Your reality has landed you in a hospital bed in the emergency room. You feel so guilty it’s making you sick, because the child growing inside you deserves better than a mother who isn’t well. You feel guilty because you don’t want this pregnancy anymore. You’ve even thought about how to get rid of it. You feel guilty thinking about what your boyfriend would think. It’s a very paradoxical situation. You’ve always wanted to be a mother. Unfortunately, it’s a combination of things and events that has led you to this point. Society says that pregnancy hormones are like a roller coaster, but you feel like they’re bobbing around like a rowboat in the middle of a hurricane.
Pregnancy takes a toll on your body and your mind. You don’t have the body of a shallot—you have the body of a beet, full of curves and imperfections. Its color is very attractive and pretty, but life’s “bumps” are becoming more and more noticeable—and especially conspicuous. It’s true that you don’t like your beet-like body—it’s something that’s been ingrained in you since childhood. However, with pregnancy, your growing belly, stretch marks spreading, and clothes that no longer fit, it’s tough on your mental health. It’s hard to convince yourself that it’ll go away; it’s hard not to feel guilty when you don’t eat well or when you overeat, because you’re eating your emotions. You know, it’s the only way you’ve learned to deal with them over the last 20 years…
It’s not just your low self-esteem that’s led you to where you are now. It’s your job—you know, the one that left you coming home exhausted and out of breath. Not because you don’t like your job, but simply because you’re tired. Your to-do list It just keeps getting worse! You were sicker than you’ve ever been during the first trimester, and you hung in there through the second trimester, telling yourself you’d feel that famous surge of energy—but in reality, it never showed up. When you told your boss you were exhausted, they ignored your condition and gave you extra work. Your OB-GYN put you on sick leave, seeing how fragile you were. However, your employer won’t accept your doctor’s note. As if you were in any condition to handle the paperwork. You have no choice—otherwise, you’ll have to go back to work.
On top of that, there are also the comments and opinions of others. People around you who meant well by giving you advice and opinions, even though you didn’t ask for any. Or comments about your body, which is such a source of insecurity for you. Things like, “You don’t have that famous glow"Or 'you're carrying low,'" aren't really things you should say to a pregnant woman. And even less so the infamous question, "Is this your first?"—which is always very difficult to answer when you've had a miscarriage before this pregnancy. People don’t understand that it hurts to be constantly compared to others, when in reality, your body has already been through two pregnancies! It was ready—it knew how to change.
Sitting in a hospital room on the maternity ward, waiting to see a psychiatrist, I am exhausted and tired. Strangely, my body still manages to produce tears, despite the hospital staff’s efforts to comfort me—efforts that have been unsuccessful. My grief is deep and intense.
I'm a mom-to-be dealing with prenatal depression.