Having a baby, and having chronic pain

Every now and then (Now. Right now.), I am struck with how much my life is going to change in nine months. It’s hard to believe I’m going to be a mother; particularly hard since, as I am only approx. three weeks pregnant, my body has yet to feel the ravaging effects of growing a new life. Right now, I’m only experiencing little glimpses, which in themselves have been enough to make me want to say, “Hey, wait a minute, that’s not what I signed up for!”

It’s hard to believe I am going to be somebody's mother. I am going to be somebody’s mother. Since when did I qualify to be somebody’s mother? I fear there may have been a lapse in cosmic judgment. I wondered for so long if it were even a possibility for me to be a biological mother. For most of my life, I just assumed it wasn’t, being as I have Epilepsy and Fibromyalgia. Well, turns out it’s quite possible. Now, where can I find a book called, What to Expect when You’re Expecting, When Your Body Already Hates You On a Good Day?

Somewhere, between my bewilderment and jaw-clenching anxiety, I am happy, even elated. I picture myself amongst the smug-looking Santa Cruz mamas, strolling through the Farmer’s Market with their newborns swaddled in slings like sleepy, angelic fashion accessories. One hand cradles the baby’s head, the other gropes a bushel of fresh Kale or holds the leash of a Labrador. Those mothers always have the same look about them, like they are present and walking through a crowd of people, yet somehow far away. Lost in the land of Motherhood.

So far, my pregnancy has been treating me pretty well. In fact, I’d say it’s pretty darned good. Quite the opposite of what I expected, and in some ways, I even feel a little bit better than I did before. Where my tailbone and hips used to be so sore and inflamed from Fibro that it hurt to walk, I’m now miraculously fine in that area, and I’ve actually been able to walk so much that my  legs and derriere have shaped up a little. Although, really, it feels like the weight has just shifted from my lower body to my upper body, and that pesky knot between my shoulder blades from growing womanhood can sometimes make things difficult. My Fibromyalgia affects me, like most people living with it, mostly by amplifying the sensation of pain; so a knot in my back can feel like a knife in my back (Not to say a knot lodged in any area of your body is pain-free, Fibro or no). Since pregnancy is universally understood to be a painful experience, I’ve been holding my breath and enjoying the days until bed rest. However, my step Mom (Who, coincidentally, also lives with Fibro), told me a story of a woman she knows who has terrible arthritis and had several children. Apparently, during all her pregnancies, this woman felt the best she’d ever felt in her life. Perhaps it will go the same way with me? Could pregnancy be the best source of relief from chronic pain? Something tells me it might not be that simple, but a mama-to-be can dream.

Growing with change

I am going to be a mother, something I thought I would never be able to do. I have wanted to have a baby with Husband so badly, and now that the opportunity is here, it feels a little unreal. Suddenly, a whole new world of beauty and fear has opened up to me. I’m finally pregnant- will I be able to keep my baby? It seems all anybody wants to tell me about is their miscarriage, or their sister’s miscarriage, or their friend’s miscarriage.

At one point, I felt suffocated with fear of losing the baby, and ran out of the house to escape my own thoughts. Outside, watching the lagoon, was a girl about my age. I stood beside her, and commented on the beauty of the water and the godzilla fish that lurked beneath the surface, sometimes breaching like whales. Mindless chatting helped, and soon I was able to feel my budding hysteria subside. The girl told me about herself. She had recently been hit by a car while riding her bike, and her friend was fixing it while she wandered the lagoon. She was homeless, jobless, and broke. She had recently lost her fiancee, and her baby.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.” She said, shaking her head. I stopped her.
“You said you’d recently lost a baby?”

I told her my situation, the reason I, myself, was wandering beside the calm water. Listening to her story made me so grateful for everything I had. A loving husband, a home of our own, a job that I love. The girl told me she believed she’d lost her baby because, inwardly, she wasn’t ready to be a mother. She told me to have faith, that we manifest our destiny. She gave me a hug, and we walked away in opposite directions. Though I invited her for dinner at my place any time she was hungry, I don’t think I’ll ever see her again; but I’ll never forget her. I left the lagoon feeling strangely calm and confident, and gave my water bottle away to a thirsty stranger because it felt right. It was an act of faith.

Husband pointed out that my defense mechanism of choice was to assume and focus on the worst. Perhaps inwardly, I believe that if I reject happiness before it rejects me, I won’t be hurt or disappointed by life. However, extending that kind of energy to the Universe will only recycle back to me, a series of unfortunate self-fulfilling prophecies.

For now, I’ll enjoy being pregnant. I am grateful for every moment I am pregnant, and if I miscarry tomorrow, I will be grateful that I got to experience pregnancy in the first place. Or, at least, I’ll try.