Writers note: I did not realize when I started this entry how long it would become, how heavy with emotion. I have decided to break it down into three parts for easier reading. This experience was hard for me to live, and perhaps harder for me to admit to and put into words. I hope that in reading it that you will be understanding of my journey, and that perhaps along the line it will help another mother who is going through the same thing make it through one more difficult day..
Part One: PREGNANCY
I always thought I would be one of those women who got pregnant and loved every minute. I would sign up for prenatal yoga class, eat super healthy foods, take long walks in cute maternity clothes literally glowing. I would spendmy days taking artistic nude photos of my beautiful pregnant belly and documenting every changing detail in pregnancy journals and baby books. I was not. I was about as good at being pregnant as a one legged man in a butt kicking contest. To be brutally honest I hated it.
I knew two days after we conceived that I was pregnant, it hit me like a brick wall. I woke up that morning, stood up and gagged. I looked at hubby and said "I think I'm pregnant" he assured me that it was not possible and I was just was being histrionic. I knew inside that I felt different. I guess he still hadn't accepted the fact that I'm always right... Two weeks later we had the proof.
I spent the first three months of my pregnancy sicker than I have ever been in my life. Morning sickness my ass!! I was sick morning noon and night, even throwing up in my sleep a few times, much to the horror of Hubby and the cat who became innocent casualties of the midnight assaults. I lost about 20 pounds in 3 months. Sounds great I know (what I would give to lose 20 pounds of baby weight right now I cant even tell you!) but when you lose it that fast on a bulimic diet its not cute, miles from sexy. I looked ill. My skin was hanging off of me and my eyes had huge bags under them. Things got so bad that I was not able to get out of bed and walk the few feet to the bathroom by myself. My husband had to carry me. If I wanted a shower he would bring a beach chair into the bathroom and hose me off. I did not feel beautiful, I was lightyears from sexy. I felt like a horse. Poor Hubby would patiently, and somewhat fearfully, soap and hose me as I sobbed hysterically in my beach chair. To make matters worse we were delaying telling anyone until we could get confirmation that it was a healthy pregnancy so I was stuck making excuses as to why I looked like I was a week from death.. Glowing.. Riiiight..
Around 3 and a half months the morning (round-the-clock) sickness stopped. It was that fast. I thought "Great, here we go!! NOW I can do the cute preggo lady thing!" I still had no belly due to the lack of caloric intake for the last few months but a week or so of non stop eating (hey, you don't eat for three months and then tell me what YOU do when food tastes good again!) and I started getting a tiny bit of a tummy. I was so ready to start showing off my belly and beaching it up in my preggo bikini. Though I was still weak, I started taking little walks around the city, spending a few hours a day on the beach to combat the wicked hot flashed that plagued me. I was determined to live out my pregnancy fantasy despite the rough start. Two weeks later I started having pains. Not little twinges mind you, they were kick me in the crotch, doubled over, stop me in my tracks pain. I went to the doctor and she told me it was normal, I was pregnant,pregnancy's not easy, don't be such a wimp. I'm paraphrasing of course as the conversation was in Russian through my husband, but the look on her face said enough. A few days later I couldn't take it anymore and we went to a different doctor as mine was not available that day. She said she could not determine what the pain was and sent me to the Hospital. It was there that they determined that I was having contractions.
I was in a panic. I was only 16 weeks along and knew enough to know there was no way this baby could survive outside the womb. The nurses explained to me in short that if this was the start of labor, there was nothing they could do and that I should go home and get into bed. After three months of being in bed due to pregnancy induced bulimia, bed rest was the last thing I wanted to hear, but I was terrified of losing this baby so off to bed I went. It was modified bed rest, I was allowed low activity, but the second the pains started up I had to go lie down again, which pretty much happened whenever I got up, so eventually I just accepted my fate.
I spent hours researching pregnancy and birthing techniques and was thrilled to find a midwife in Israel that specialized in home births. I have a deep seeded fear of hospitals and desperately wanted to have a quiet natural birth the way nature intended. She informed me that as long as I made it to 36 weeks, she would deliver me. I had my goal. I took a hypnobirthing class to prepare myself for natural labor and was fascinated as I learned to relax myself and allow my body to do what was natural. The pain of my contractions was minute as I taught myself to relax and breathe and thing of them as stretching surges not as hard painful contractions. I practiced daily, readying my body for the ultimate test of womanhood. Though I was still not really enjoying being pregnant, I approached it with a sort of scientific fascination. The kicks, the hiccups, the growing belly, I kept track of all the milestones and ticked away the days until it was "safe" to go into labor. I genuinely was looking forward to the experience. I knew it would be one of the most empowering times in my life.
The midwife told me that the baby was measuring big but I was not worried. I had faith that my body knew what it was doing and was genuinely excited for what was to come. Boy was I in for a surprise. The end of my pregnancy was fairly uneventful. I hit 36 weeks, 37, 38. At this point my mother had booked her ticket from the States to attend the birth and I started talking to the baby, telling him (we didn't know the sex but I was sure it was a boy from almost day one) to just stay inside for a liiitle bit longer. Week 39, 40, Mom was here. I was now on a mission. For those of you who don't know, April in Israel is summer, and it is HOT. I was a whale, I know most pregnant women say that, but I really was. I hadn't seen my feet in months unless they were propped up on something, and when I did catch a glimpse, it wasn't pretty. They had swollen to unrecognizable blobs with little sausages on the end of them. Walking was a nightmare but I had nearly hit my due date and it was time for this critter to be born...
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