motherhood: PREGNANCY Intro
Naturally, I'd like to begin with the first trimester. I'd like to detail the exciting reactions from friends and family, the crazy cravings, the 'checking your belly in the mirror every day to see if you're showing,' the weird euphoria you experience when no one really knows, and you feel like you have this huge powerful secret. But that wouldn't be a real place to start. All of those things reside under the notion of acceptance, and it took me a world of denial to get to that place. I found out I was pregnant a week after my 22nd birthday, during my 3rd year of university. My period was a week late (and that bitch is always on time), so I thought, fuck, let's get a test out of the way to ease my mind. I'm obviously not pregnant, I just need to know for sure. So I did the test in the bathroom, alone in my shared house. Negative, knew it. I took the Clearblue stick upstairs, chucked it on my floor, and continued to clean my bedroom. I started dancing to the song of 'I'm not pregnant, my cycles just fucked, but who cares, because I'm not pregnant woohoo' - It's a big tune, some of you with wombs may be familiar with it. I worked my way through the chaos, organising, and disposing. Around 20 minutes later, I picked up the test, ready to banish it to the depths of the saggy bin liner I'd been escorting around the room with me - but took one last glance. There it was; two blue lines. Overlapping each other, meeting in the middle, saying 'gotcha bitch - whatcha gonna do now' in that annoying voice that pregnancy tests tend to have. And that's how I found out. Clumsily, awkwardly, confusingly. And that's pretty much how the proceeding couple of weeks played out for me too, engulfed in confusion and displacement.
My boyfriend's reaction was as expected - one of fear and hesitation in bringing a baby into the world. To be honest, I didn't really care about what he had to say. I felt like I was listening, but at the same time, he was background noise. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to admit that, but it's true. I mean, he made valid points; I was young, I had a lot of figuring out to do, we were in a lot of debt (collectively), we didn't live together, we argued a lot, I was in my most crucial university year, I had no money, he didn't have a stable job… the list was, well, endless. On top of this, It seemed inconceivable that I could actually have a baby or be worthy of becoming a mother, when I was literally vomiting in a club toilet a week prior to this conversation (not proud). At the time, it slightly felt as if I were flirting with the idea of having a baby just to play the Devils Advocate. But looking back, I realise that I knew what I wanted all along. It just took me a lot longer to accept it than I would have imagined.
The next couple of weeks were a nightmare. I battled with thoughts of keeping it and having a voluntary termination. I made a mistake in thinking that I wasn't going to have this baby and repressed my uncertainty in this choice, which led to a series of dangerous decisions. I truly didn't know what I was going to do. The worst part is, as a newly 22-year-old university student, my coping mechanisms weren't exactly the healthiest. I acted as if I wasn't pregnant at times. I made up my mind and changed it the next morning. I told my friends I was not having the baby, and then spoke about my favourite baby names in the same breath. I'd have half a glass of wine and then sit on the sofa wracked with guilt and confusion. I was a mess, the messiest I think I've ever been. I called all the helplines, read all the advice. The only thing made clearer to me, the more I searched for what to do, was that this was my decision—only mine. And anyone who knows me, knows that I cannot make a solid decision to save my life. Well, coincidentally, this decision did just that.