There are a number of things that aren’t talked about when someone gets pregnant.
Way too many things actually.
One of the things that I know I was warned about but was still completely unprepared for was how many people were going to forget that I existed the moment they found out I was pregnant.
I don’t mean in the way that people become parents and then all of a sudden their friends slowly start dropping like flies because the new parents can no longer come out at the drop of a hat.
No, I mean how people have started to address my stomach more than they address me.
Not everyone, thankfully I have an amazing support network of friends and family, most of whom are mothers themselves and know exactly how I feel. There are however, some work friends and some family that…you know…seem to have forgotten that I am in fact still a person.
And it sucks so much ass.
I have people asking how the baby is doing. Not how I am doing. How the baby is doing. Those are the first words that they say to me when they see me. I started out passive aggressively telling them that the baby is fine in their safe warm cocoon, hanging out and draining my body of every last nutrient, I however am doing shit.
I’ve also ignored the question and just told them how I’m doing.
Matt has even called people out for not having yet asked me how I’m doing. Their response was that we no longer matter and the baby is all that’s important now.
Imagine it if you will, first time parents, getting excited for their new baby that’s growing, I’m also trying to keep food down the best that I can, and we’re told that we don’t matter anymore. We weren’t told that the baby comes first. We weren’t told that our needs take a backseat to theirs. We were told that we don’t matter.
And that pissed me off.
A lot actually.
I have close friends who are mums. I have a very good friend, one of my oldest friends actually, who suffered a lot with pregnancy and post natal depression. She had no support network. She had family and her partner but she had no support. I wish I had been more present. I wish that I had gone around more, been there for her more.
My own mum struggled with post natal depression. She’s open about it because she knows that it wasn’t her fault the way she felt. It wasn’t talked about in those days. It was something to be ashamed of. Something to hide.
I’m glad that she’s open about it. I’m glad that if it happens to me then I will at least know that it’s not my fault. I’m glad that I will know that it’s okay to ask for help.
The thing about telling parents that they don’t matter anymore, it does something to your mental state. The moment that we see that positive line on the pregnancy test, it almost doesn’t feel real, but we know that it is.
When we start getting the nausea and the random cramping that no one warns you about and our pants that fit perfectly a few weeks ago are now too tight and uncomfortable pressing against our stomach, it starts to feel more real.
Seeing that little alien on the screen and their little heart beat. I’ve gotta say that’s pretty damn convincing that everything is changing.
The moment of certainty that everything is changing comes at different times for different people. For me this was something that I wanted and I knew the moment I saw that double line that everything was going to be different.
There was no more one last V, no more drinking a whole triple espresso dare in the morning and then following it up with a V to get me through the afternoon. There was no more sushi, no more cold twiggy sticks (I’m sorry but it is not worth heating up a twiggy stick I will just wait). No more Jacks and coke at family dinners. All of these things sound really unhealthy I know and my mum and probably most people would agree that I should be cutting out the energy drinks and huge doses of caffeine anyway but that’s really not the point is it.
I knew that roughly nine months from that moment I would be holding a tiny person in my arms, praying to every god I could think of that I don’t screw them up and that they still love me and want to be around me when they’re twenty. I’m not gonna hope for their entire lives because sure as shit they’re probably going to hate me for a good part of their teenage years just because it’s part of the mandate they sign when they turn 13.
I knew then that once that baby was born, I would be taking a backseat to their needs. Needing to pee for the last eight hours but every time I go the baby needs me, so guess who won’t be peeing until Matt gets home from work. Of course he’s going to be stinky and covered in grease and dust so I’ll have to wait till he showers and then maybe I’ll be able to pee.
I know these things. I know that the moment they are born, they come first to us.
Here’s the thing that some people seem to be forgetting though and I’m gonna say it slow.
I am the only thing keeping this child alive right now.
Me.
The only thing.
Matt can’t do it.
Our parents can’t do it.
If I suddenly die they aren’t going to keep going on their own.
So I feel like in a morbid way, that kinda makes me pretty damn important.
Matt. Now not only is he the father, (I’d make a joke here but he’s already done that and sometimes people give us weird looks) but he is also a very big part of my support network.
When I am tired and throwing up and can barely make it off the couch because I’m nauseous, he is the one who comes home and deals with the animals and brings me things and takes me to bed and rubs my back.
I mean he could rub my back more but I digress.
He is damn important.
Do you know what happens when a pregnant mother is stressed out? Like constantly.
High blood pressure. Increased risk of preeclampsia. Low birthweight in the baby.
Do you know what happens when new parents are suffering from no sleep, stress and the constant idea that we’re going to do something wrong?
I don’t even want to think about it.
Do you know what happens when a new mum suffering from post natal depression is told that they don’t matter?
…
Yeah.
So how about just as a thing we stop perpetuating this idea that parents stop mattering the moment the child is conceived. How about we stop this idea that parents don’t matter once the child is born.
Stop telling parents that they don’t matter.
Kid’s that grow up thinking that their parents don’t matter, turn into parents that think they don’t matter. There’s a whole lot of psychology involved and complexes that develop and we’re not doing any of that.
If my kids develop complexes it’s not going to be because I taught them through my own inaction that mental health doesn’t matter. It’s going to be because I am insanely sarcastic and her dad has issues accepting his own emotions are valid.
If they’re going to be afraid of pregnancy and parenthood it’s going to be because they’re both terrifying and full of changes in body and life style. They’re going to be afraid of it because the idea of being responsible for another tiny human is an absolutely baffling concept when you’re barely adulty enough to take care of yourself.
They will not be afraid of pregnancy and parenthood because of this insane idea that they cease to matter the moment a baby enters the picture.
Not today. Not on my watch.
S.J Smith Books 