How Should a Pregnant Woman Be?

Everything that is expected from pregnant women by society, everything that I am not

A colleague sits close to me with a big friendly smile, while we are about to start our group meeting. He goes: Hi! How are you doing? I know he is referring to my bump. I also know that the reason why people at work are now more openly curious about the state of my pregnancy is because my belly shows so much more than just one or two months ago. Be it the summer dresses, be it that I’m getting kind of really big now. The colleague, still smiling, then continues with a question, that will be stuck in my brain for the whole next week:

Are you one of these women, like my wife, who just LOVE to be pregnant?

(…)

The air leaves the space around my mouth. I try to give an equally casual answer, but none comes to mind. I mutter something. Luckily, the meeting is starting. A good excuse to smile half-heartedly and just shut up.

The colleague most probably has no clue what I am going through. He is a nice person, and he just wanted to find some topic to connect about in order for us to have a casual conversation. But his supposedly innocent question, over the next few days, grows inside my mind like a cancer, to become a symbol of everything that is expected from pregnant women by society, everything that I am not.

You should be radiant. You should be happy, so happy. You should just love it! You should feel so fulfilled right now, don’t you? It fits you so well. Isn’t it such a joyful time? Aren’t you lucky?

So, I keep asking myself: Do I LOVE to be pregnant?

To be honest, I have nothing against being pregnant. It is something I welcomed and chose, and at the moment I have no physical problems to complain about.

Sure, the month and a half I spent in bed because of bleedings and some supposed issues with amniotic fluid, while constantly questioning whether my baby would survive or not, and while living alone and thus not knowing how to manage the ban (from my doctor) to stand “for any reasons other than going to the bathroom” (who is supposed to cook? who is supposed to wash the dishes? who is supposed to get the medicines?), let alone the psychological stress,… well, that wasn’t funny.

And, sure, nowadays it is a victory if I go through a whole day without crying inconsolably for some minutes. Without being sad because of my breakup and the way I was treated, or angry at my destiny. Sure, nowadays I am super stressed about not knowing what my future will look like, whether my job contract will be prolonged or not, and whether I will be able, by myself, to provide financially and emotionally for my son. Nowadays it is normal to wonder whether he will have the life he deserves. Whether he will be happy and carefree. Whether I will ever manage to be happy and carefree again. Even for a moment.

But do I hate to be pregnant? No.

Do I love it? I don’t, either.

How can I love the most depressive, difficult, and stressful period of my life? I just can’t.

And, while my reality is difficult, I know many other women are also having a tough time when it comes to the topic of “being pregnant”, be it for similar or very different reasons.

Maybe they have a life-risking health condition. Maybe they don’t have a job at all. Maybe they have an addiction. Maybe they’re not only single but also don’t have the support of their family or friends. Maybe they are being ostracized because pregnant. Maybe they’re pregnant because of violence. Maybe they’d love to be pregnant but just can’t. Maybe they’ve tried for long, and feel like cannot even speak about it. Maybe they had an abortion. Maybe more than one. Maybe they are pregnant already but don’t feel any connection whatsoever with the creature inside them. Maybe they experience even more severe depression. Maybe they wake up every day and regret being pregnant in the first place.

What I know for sure is that discovering that you’ll be a single mom halfway into your pregnancy throws all the expectations of a rosy life — if they were even there to start with — out of the window. Forget the decorations, forget the frenzy of shopping for baby items. Forget the felicitation-card type of sentiments. Pregnancy is not a light subject anymore. And no, you’re not radiant. And that’s okay, too.

And if you think that is anyhow a very uncommon scenario… well, think again. Just in the US, more than a quarter of minors are being raised in single-parent households, the percentage being just somewhat smaller in Europe. Some of these single parents (for the most part moms) will be single from the beginning, others from later on.

But none of these situations is uncommon at all.

So, be careful with your assumption of how things usually are, and recognize that your own “normality” often looks like a privilege to others.

Recognize that your questions, with the stereotypical views they imply, can sometimes hurt them, and make them feel wrong, or defective. Particularly if they are in a vulnerable moment.

Finally, a final micro-advice to all well-intentioned people out there: a simple “How are you” — assuming you really have the time and willingness to listen to the answer— can go a long, long way.

And, sincerely, thank you for trying.

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