22 Jan 17

On being pregnant – #mytruth

21 weeks pregnant in Ubud
Me, 21 weeks pregnant, on our babymoon in Ubud, Bali

That photo was back taken in November, when my belly was still looking decent for a photo. I’m 29 weeks now and boy has it changed. I wouldn’t want to have a photo taken of it, from the front. Let’s just say, I didn’t know my belly button could look this weird.

I’ve been thinking about writing this post – about my struggles with this pregnancy – for some time now. And certain factors put me off because a) everyone’s pregnancy is different b) when it’s different that’s when people disagree c) I’ve seen a lot of disagreements on my pregnancy app’s forum and it gets ugly. On the flip side, I’ve read some really intimate blog posts by women I don’t know, where they shared truths that I felt, must have been hard to admit. And I wanted to add my voice to that.

I do want to point out that this isn’t about struggles with conceiving, or having any health issues. I’m thankful for having a smooth-sailing journey so far in that context. On some scale, what I’m gonna share seems so trivial then. I’ve tried to brush it off as trivial too. Yet, I can’t seem to brush it off no matter the number of weeks that has passed. And upon entering my third trimester, the feelings are stronger than ever. I talked a bit about how my body has changed at the start of this post and that has been eating away at me. I don’t know why I’m having such a hard time with this, to be really honest. But I am and I can’t seem to escape it. I cringe at every photo I see of myself, when my husband wants a photo for posterity, I scream NO!. I even want to ban photo-taking this Chinese New Year if possible. This is coming from someone who never cared about how silly/fat-face/bad angle I looked in photos in the past.

It’s like my perception of myself has changed, for the worse. I don’t know. My husband is very nice to remind me my body has only grown in places that should be growing. I’m gaining weight at a healthy pace. I workout thrice a week. But the person I see in the mirror, she makes me feel sad.

There are days I find it in me to say fuck it, I don’t care. I don’t care about this rash that’s mapped out its colonies on my belly. But if you prodded a bit more, I’d start tearing. I’d tell you I hate everything about being pregnant.

Maybe I didn’t mentally prep myself enough? Maybe I thought being pregnant meant being yourself with a big belly. I say that I miss my old self from time to time. So maybe all these feelings stem from that… I’m not my old self anymore but I’m still looking for her.

It’s been hard, I’ve cried many many times. I’ve talked to friends about it. I’ve cried to my husband about it. But I know that this is mine to deal with. Or mine to live out. A few more months to go! Thus far, I’ve only come across one lady sharing that she didn’t enjoy pregnancy one bit without padding it with a “but it was all worth it in the end”. I appreciated her honesty so much. It’s too early to say as I haven’t held my baby in my arms, however, if that feeling overcomes me, it would be really nice. As of now, I’m struggling every day, I hate it and I can’t wait for it to be over.

Just in case anyone confuses this with me not loving my baby, I don’t view my pregnancy in relation to the baby. The pregnancy is mine. The baby is the baby. Yknow what I’m saying?


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