pregnancy observations: 21 weeks

The big news is that the baby is a boy, and is healthy and growing nicely as far as ultrasound can tell! Big news indeed. It might sound cliche, but I knew. I knew! When babies were only a vague imagination, I always imagined myself with a baby girl first, but as soon as I became pregnant, visions of tiny boys entered my mind, inexplicably. I took it as a sign, feeling more and more sure – and lo and behold! I honestly would have been shocked if the ultrasound tech had declared the baby a girl. Hearing “boy” confirmed the recognition I’d been feeling all along. 

It’s funny, all the wondering over the baby’s sex does make one’s mind wander right over to gender and expectations. Our kid, not us, will have the final say and agency over their gender and how it affects their identity and life. Still, my own experience and reference for gender and its conventionality, in childhood in particular, rushes into my mind. Anticipating motherhood, my mind wanders to having certain experiences with a little girl, and certain experiences with a little boy. And my insecurity creeps in too, so quickly: having only ever been a girl myself, how do I raise a boy – with sensitivity and space and gentleness? And in this crazy world, with such complicated conflicting stories from every direction!? How do I allow him to decide what is his, in his own time and without too much heavy-handed influence in any particular direction? I think it will be both simple and complicated, as all things are, and I think a lot of it will depend on what sort of person he is, what he likes and moves toward, what in the world opens its arms to him, who he discovers himself to be as he grows. I want already to be open-handed, and in some ways knowing the baby is a boy makes that a little easier for me, or at least helps me move in a good direction. The “girl” tracks in my brain are deeply grooved, and too familiar. I worry that I’d expect her to be just like me, would find myself baffled by all the ways she’d be her own. But a boy, already a mystery! I get to get to know him without so much of my own personal gender history in the way, the whole of it surprising and new to me, and I think that’s a really good thing. Either way, I don’t want to make a big deal about it, though I’m sure the big deal that culture makes will still feel loud – as it does already. In all things – we’ll see! So many places to fail and love and grow in turn.

The ultrasound itself was incredible. I couldn’t peel my eyes away from the screen. The most surreal thing was feeling the baby’s movement and seeing it at the same time, watching him swish around on the screen as that same swish moved through me. He was stubborn, not compliant with the ultrasound tech’s insistent taps on my belly with her wand to get him to move into better positions. We got all the pictures and information we needed, but he was adorably bullheaded about it. At one point I apologized to the tech about his not being agreeable, and she said, hilariously, “Oh, I talk to these guys all day everyday, they can’t be reasoned with!” My favorite parts were seeing his perfect spine, his heart beating, two kidneys, the balls of his fists. His mouth opening and closing. So incredible that all of these things came together perfectly – but it can’t be any other way. I read somewhere, can’t remember where now: “the expectant mother demands nothing less than bodily perfection” – and it’s true! I need his body to be perfect! He needs his body to be perfect! For so many of us fortunate ones, our bodies somehow emerged perfect, doing exactly what they need to do all day every day. 

We’re halfway there now. Well, over halfway actually! In two weeks, the baby could possibly survive outside of my body (though obviously premature birth is not what we want). I feel quite pregnant now, like hard-to-figure-out-how-to-get-out-of-bed pregnant. According to the apps, the baby is the size of a large banana, 10.5” long. 

I have twenty more weeks of pregnancy, and I need to keep focusing on nutrition as much as I can. This is where I most often feel like I’m failing, because my comfort foods are all sort of nutritionally loose, and I’m so seeking comfort right now. Pizza, pasta, bread, cheese. This is where my mind goes first when I’m too tired to think about food too hard. This is what is easiest to cook and eat. But because I’m pregnant, I need more protein, more vegetables, more water. This is a big thing for me – food has always been a pressure point, and it’s the biggest trigger for my OCD which has been flaring up a lot lately. I didn’t anticipate this stressor of pregnancy to feel so bad. Trying to give myself grace while also remaining determined to keep to it and not give up – for my sake and for baby b’s.  

Eating takes so much time, and for me, an outsized amount of energy because of my ocd/anxiety. This is not a new issue, pregnancy is just really bringing it up. All of this is compounded by the stress of pandemic piled on – aren’t we all exhausted at this point by having to cook and feed ourselves three decent meals a day, all the while feeling like grocery shopping is suddenly a risky activity? Not asking for advice, not even wishing to complain, just saying out loud that it’s hard. I had a breakdown the other night – weeping inconsolably over fear of listeria in imported grana padano (a hard cheese like parmesan, often made in Italy with raw milk) on a trader joe’s frozen pizza. It would have been perfectly safe to eat – hard unpasteurized cheeses are aged long enough for listeria to definitely die, and besides that it was well cooked! (trust me, I’ve done the extensive googling) – but my mind couldn’t get past the combination of perceived imaginary risk and exhaustion at constantly weighing and considering risk. Even though it was safe to eat, I couldn’t eat the pizza. I made boxed macaroni and cheese instead, long past the point of hunger, and ate it with relish. And all of that should have been a vegetable instead! Do you see what I mean? Just so interesting where each person’s resolve breaks down and we’re brought to tears by a frozen pizza. Our particular challenges, and the places we feel that we’re failing. It’s not about a pizza. There’s so much to worry about, and sometimes it comes to be too much. For someone else, nutrition may be no problem at all, but something else will trip them up, something else will feel huge to them. Pregnancy, maybe first pregnancy especially, is such a time of wild vulnerability and new pressure from all sides, and I’m trying to figure out how to be generous with myself through it. 

I’ve been reading Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth. Before I picked it up, I wasn’t sure how I would feel about it and all the other literature about childbirth and parenting. It’s almost like you’re groomed to be skeptical about all advice before receiving any of it – now I relish reading advice and guidance knowing that no matter how much I read, birthing this baby, breastfeeding, and parenting will all happen for us, our family, in particularity, however it will. Holding that contrast is really interesting for my mind – I can read about the fascinating process of unmedicated birth, knowing full well that for any number of reasons I could give birth by cesarean section (I was a c-section baby!) or require an induction. I can read about breastfeeding, knowing full well that for any number of reasons my baby may need to be fed formula either supplementally or for all feedings. I can read about sleeplessness, postpartum depression and anxiety, bonding, so many things, knowing that none of them will become vivid or full until I’m in the middle of them and my experience catches up to my imagination. 

In the book, one phrase caught my eye today – “avoid magical thinking,” or the idea that, for example, accepting the thought that I may need a c-section means that I’ll definitely need one. Having anxiety means that my brain tends toward this magical thinking, or end-of-line thinking. Once I imagine that something could happen, I begin to think that it will. That’s deeply unhelpful, and I know it. Thinking through the possibility of needing a c-section or other medical interventions only aids my brain, moves me closer to acceptance. It doesn’t cause anything to happen. Ironically, in almost all cases, the stress of anticipation far outweighs the actual stress of experiencing big crisises or events in my life. Having that awareness, I fully expect the experience of birth, of feeding, of early motherhood, will, in some ways, be easier to move through with clarity of mind than this period of imagination without experience. Once things are actually happening, I’m usually pretty good at dealing with them with reality and little guilt or regret. But maybe not! Who knows! It’s so interesting to sit at the outside of my mind looking in and see the rushes of ocd and anxiety move in and shake everything up as I take in more and more new information, things to anticipate before experience. Almost like the labor before the labor, contractions of worry and fear. The waiting and forced preparation really welcomes in my over-thinking.  

See, with the cheese breakdown, I gave into the magical thinking! Sometimes it is too hard to deny it. Sometimes it’s all too scary! 

All that being said, all over-analyzing aside, I’m really enjoying reading Ina May. There’s a deep comfort in her confident reassurance (from experience! so much experience!) that the body knows what to do, that our emotions are deeply involved, that the pain of childbirth, in particular, doesn’t even necessarily need to be painful. Even the language of calling contractions “rushes” instead moves my mind toward deeper contemplation of what birth really is. Whether or not I experience a picture-perfect ina may birth (which is a phrase I know she herself would reject), I’m better for having thought about it, this positive magical thinking on the flip side of all the anxiety. 

Wow, first trimester I felt so in my body, second trimester I feel so in my MIND. Maybe third trimester will be spirit? I love thinking about the three-ness of pregnancy. 

I made myself a summer pregnancy dress – a long boxy flowy dress with 18” slits on both sides so my legs can move freely. It’s exactly what I wanted to wear. Already, I’m planning another one! My jeans barely fit anymore, and I’m bewildered by my body – in a good way! As a woman, you’re always sort of wondering what your body will be like pregnant. It’s fascinating to be finding out! 

I’ve been trying to join Isaiah as much as I can on the evening dog walks too, in addition to my solo morning dog walk. I want to walk as much as I can since it’s the only exercise that feels agreeable to me right now. It’s nice to get to walk with Isaiah and go to new parts of the neighborhood, streets I’ve never walked down before – when I’m alone I walk the same familiar route each time because I’m a creature of habit and it’s where I feel quite safe. So many neighborhood wildflowers, narrow alleys, sets of city steps. Pittsburgh is full of abandoned houses and thick wilderness among the urban hills. The blight is haunting but also deeply romantic and quite beautiful, all the verdant green that covers everything in the summer. Stairways lined with tall pokeweed, kids’ bikes strewn on the sidewalk, seeing people’s carefully tended gardens peppered between the neglected yards, people sitting on their porches. These long exploratory summer evening walks with Isaiah have been good for my soul, and I hope I’ll remember them long after this pregnancy ends.