Tales of Pregnancy: Lessons

You’d be hard pressed to find someone more laid back about labor and delivery than I. I’ve been asked many times about my birth plan, and my response is always the same: Oh, I think I’ll have a baby. I also find that when I read books and articles about the science of pregnancy or delivery my eyes glaze over and I immediately find myself thinking…isn’t this why I have a doctor? So I don’t have to know this shi….

Both of these have really shocked me—my lack of desire to plan the delivery/birth, and my lack of desire to read books about this unknown—because controlling things and reading books are two of my staples!

And the laid back, you see, ends there. This is a shout out to all you type As out there who are planning on having babies in the future: YOU CANNOT CONTROL THIS! Any of it. And you’re not supposed to. Seriously, you need to relax, and burn your planner for good measure.

Yes, I know (or have heard) that all expectant moms, not just type As, are concerned about doing things “right.” But what you might not understand is that the effect of that concern plays out differently for us controlling types. When we’re not controlling things properly….we freak out. We pretty much go into hyperdrive until we figure out exactly how to regain control of the situation to get the outcomes we want. Rationally we might know we’re “not in charge” but EVERY instinct in our body tells us we need to get back in control…immediately.

My brain knows that I can’t control the miracle of life. While both our names have three letters, I never confuse G-O-D with A-L-I. That doesn’t mean that it meets reality that way, though.

I’ve mentioned in a previous post that when I’m not feeling well I try to troubleshoot the issue. I wasn’t born yesterday so of course I know that pregnancy can make you feel ill. That, however, didn’t stop my very natural tendency to try to find solutions when I felt crappy. Eat more of this. Eat less of that. Sleep more. Sleep less. Exercise. Walk around more. Sit down more. Stand up slower. Eat every two hours. Try four hours. How about three? AND MEASURE ALL THE RESULTS!

It’s obviously fruitless, but it doesn’t FEEL that way in the moment because up until this point in my life being proactive and taking charge of situations has been what has most often led to achieving the outcome I desire. Doing nothing would indicate that I don’t care, so says my brain.

And now, a story about how trying to control everything will ruin your life…or at least your pregnancy.

I told myself that after I got out of the “sick” stage I was going to get active again. I was going to be one of those super fit ladies that works out their whole pregnancy and does walking lunges into the delivery room, or whatever those women do. Because of my age I have lots of friends having babies around now, and they seriously never post pics on Facebook of them lying in bed, head buried in Ben & Jerry's, so I’m assuming that’s not what they’re doing. It’s all these hiking pictures, and “I’m still going to the gym” posts, and I’m just over here like, well, ice cream is on aisle ten, so technically that’s a ton of walking.

Because everyone knows that 12 weeks is the magical number where you instantly feel like a million bucks again, every second past week 12 at midnight I’m berating myself. I’m not that rational mama who says (as my sister-in-law told me) that my body is currently on loan to another little person right now and I will get it back soon enough, so be patient with the changes and challenges (can I get a shout out for that brilliant woman?!). No, not that. More like, “You planned to start working out at 5:30pm on day one of week 13 and now you’ve missed…well, I can’t count that high that fast, but a TON of workouts, you lazy turd. So get up and start moving. You’re probably making your baby fat and it’s probably in there playing Grand Theft Auto right now just because you didn’t teach it to exercise!” So I finally get in my running shoes and go for a “run.” On week 22. Like my planner said I was gunna do.

What my planner DIDN’T know, was that holding an hour long time block for said “run” wasn’t necessary. Allow me to share the extremely serious text that I sent to my SIL, who is also pregnant by the way, later that week while in extreme emotional distress.

Disclaimer: Firstly, this is some real strung out stuff, and this "text" is broken into PARAGRAPHS. Buckle up. Secondly, I know many of you will read this message and be thinking SERIOUSLY, is this your biggest drama?! And I’m here to tell you that, YES, losing control of my body and schedule FEELS like a big drama to someone like me! That’s the whole friggin point.

Lazy, emotional and tired. That’s how I feel. Which is pretty weird and obviously unique to me, because most people say pregnancy makes them feel energetic, balanced and wide awake. No. No one says that! The symptoms of pregnancy are fairly well documented by now, and yet, for some reason, my controlling brain can’t apply them to me, my body or my schedule. For me, letting go of control actually requires an emotional experience. I can joke about it now, but that afternoon I was deadly serious. Nick came home and found me crying in the shower.

That’s right, crying in the shower, because my workout plan was going to have to be scrapped (ya, not going down that torture road again, see you in a few months, Running). And I kept telling him, ok sobbing to him, that I just wanted to do this all right, and I didn’t understand why some other (pregnant) women seemed to be able to go running just fine, and I know exercise is important, and I’m scheduling it, and I’m getting home from work so exhausted, and I was supposed to get my energy back, and I didn’t, and I just want to do this all right, and I didn’t understand…

To make myself feel better, I’ve now delegated all scheduling to Baby Spice, who seems to be doing a farily crappy job of it so far, but so long as I know that I’m not responsible for it.

Ok, but seriously. My hope is that this post finds at least one lady out there who is going to be a mom someday and is, like me, a planner, a controller, and a wee-bit type A. I hope she files this away in her brain for that moment when she’s pregnant with her first baby, and she’s breaking down into tears because she doesn’t feel up to completing all the items on her to-do list for that day; to-do list and scheduled items must be completed for her to be a “good” pregnant mom. I hope that she is able to rationally think through that THIS—pregnancy—is different than anything else she will ever do and HER rules and her schedule don’t apply. I hope she smiles and says, I’m doing the best I can and in this one little slice of life, that’s good enough. I honestly hope that happens, before she loses her shit like I did.

God is really patient with me, and he allows me to think that my schedule is, indeed, important. He lets me move through life with my printed fridge calendars, my to-do lists, my scheduled time blocks, and my one year, five year and long term goals written out by my bed, thinking all the while that these things matter. He lets me think that, and sometimes he even lets me use these tools to create the circumstances I want. But every so often he patiently and gently reminds me that I am, in fact, NOT the master of the Universe. So kind and gentle he is with my feelings that for my most current reminder he sent a tiny little baby, that can’t even speak, to give me that message.