It’s ok not to love being pregnant

I don’t really have time to blog these days, if you’re following me on Instagram then I’ve explained in length how much I’ve got going on at the same time. Shortly – I’m contracting on a marketing project and studying at the same time, more specifically finishing my holistic sleep coaching studies. The deadline for submitting my assignment is looming and it’s all go-go-go here! While not really having time to write anything ‘for myself”/for the blog, there are some emotions to do with my second pregnancy that I want somehow recorded and I decided to do it on this platform and I’m hoping it also resonates with some other mothers.

Living in London away from our close ones and having a baby there was at times quite isolating. I didn’t have a village, I was quite literally alone while my husband travelled extensively for work. I had to create my own village and I found it hard as being quite introverted I’m not the best at small talk, which is paramount when on playgrounds or in play groups. I even wrote about it a while back how it all resembles a dating scene a bit 🙂 – making mum friends isn’t easy.

I can say that we managed really well with the occasional help by a lovely babysitter. It helped that I was never bored, it was just up to me and my energy to plan a day out in London – I really miss that about living there, then again during COVID times life hasn’t been the same. We were fine, better than just fine, but I also knew that I didn’t want another child, I felt content, the three of us plus our spoilt cat. My husband was open to the idea but I knew it would have been too much for me. I really thought I was in the ‘one and done’ group but after living in Estonia for a year, my mind shifted. I know our plan to live here isn’t permanent and at some point we are planning to go back to the UK, but having my family so close now has been so helpful.

So, with that feeling my husband and I decided to “go ahead” 😀 last autumn. We were prepared to keep going for a few years because that’s how long it took with the first one and in my head I just decided that let’s try till I’m 40. But I fell pregnant immediately… Just after one try… I felt like a fraud. Does it even make sense? I was so used to the idea that it takes months if not even years. The first thing I actually felt was enormous guilt towards our daughter that once the baby is born, she won’t have all my attention and I will constantly have to share myself between them. With all those conflicting thoughts I also felt huge doubts whether I even actually wanted to get/be pregnant. Really disturbing thoughts and I can just imagine how furious those people, who just cannot get pregnant at all, might be with me.

Things settled in about a month’s time mentally but physically I was at an all time low – I was beyond exhausted. I experienced constant nausea, I was never sick, but a complete lack of appetite and energy took a toll on me. It took another month or so until I started feeling ‘normal’ again. I started showing a tiny bump, it started feeling real and our daughter’s unexpectedly sweet reactions and behaviour have helped me to finally put a slightly more positive spin to it.

It’s not that I’m not grateful, it just took me a long time to start feeling any happiness about it the second time around. What shook me was the speed of it, the slight unpreparedness, the doubts whether we actually were ready to become a family of four plus our spoilt cat. These fears and mixed feelings should also be validated and spoken about. Especially when a woman isn’t exactly love being pregnant. My first pregnancy was a breeze, I commuted daily on London tube, didn’t even actually need a seat after kind people spotted the ‘Baby on board’ badge, I didn’t have funky cravings, my appetite was healthy, I took long walks in the parks, I was in top form. I loved being pregnant! Things couldn’t be more different the second time… I mentioned exhaustion but I also have migraines, my skin looks terrible and I’m not exactly loving the idea being so huge again.

What I’m trying to say is that I don’t think pregnant women should be afraid to admit if they’re feeling less than thrilled and don’t really enjoy being pregnant. That does not mean we’re ungrateful or won’t love our babies. What our bodies go through the nine months is magical, I mean, we’re growing a human being, but at the same time it can also be an unpleasant experience. It is all worth it in the end but it’s ok not to enjoy the process leading to it. It doesn’t make you a bad mother.