Two days ago I stood in my OBGYN’s office and I cried my eyes out. I cried because I am terrified, exhausted, nauseous, hormonal, frustrated, under incredible amounts of stress, in a lot of pain, and am just done with what has been 9 months of torture. I cried because I couldn’t take another second and because the daily struggle against this depression I have been battling without medication became too much to bear. I am tired, empty, and I am a shell of my former self- I barely even recognise the face and body I see when I look in the mirror.
The doctor and the midwife stood in front of me and laughed- one even mimicked my tears and what I was trying to express, and sneered “you are the third pregnant woman I have had here today crying”- as if that was supposed to make me feel better. I left that room feeling humiliated and like the very real pain I have endured, meant nothing to anyone else but me.
After all, I am about to be a mother, about to fulfil my “destiny”, and the utter misery of pregnancy is just one of the sacrifices I am expected to make every day from now onwards. Pregnancy is natural, therefore what I have endured is insignificant, just par for the course, a part of being a woman.
There is not one second of this experience that I have enjoyed and I don’t care if someone judges me for saying that. I spent the first 4-5 months bleeding, on bed rest and at risk of miscarriage, medicated and too terrified to move incase I started haemorrhaging again. I have suffered anxiety and panic attacks due to stress and I spent another month with flu/bronchitis with minimal medication because of the risk to the baby. I spent 2 months taking care of my blood pressure and being told to stay in the house and not exert myself, and I have spent the last month, on strict bed rest because of a range of other medical complications. Throughout, I have suffered with the most crippling depression and anxiety I have ever experienced- and I have been to some pretty dark places in my life. Now I have been told that due to various medical issues I need to have a more complex and risky variation of a c-section involving a general anaesthetic and a significantly higher risk to myself.
All of this, and more, I am expected to just deal with, cope with, and not complain about.
I have been a prisoner of this pregnancy- trapped in my house and in a body I do not recognise or have any control over. Every medical professional I have seen has put the health of the baby before me. I have been denied vital medicine because it “might” pose a risk to the baby, and as a result I have been left to rot and suffer in my bed day after day, just trying to pass the time without losing my mind.
I have struggled to work and to maintain relationships, I have wanted to isolate myself from everyone because I fear that my suffering will be a burden to them. I have tried to open up to people from time to time, but resoundingly been told “oh think of the baby”, “you will forget all of this when she is born”, or “just be quiet and be patient”. When I have told others that I don’t want to have any more children, they laugh and tell me that a decision I have taken over my own body and sanity, is not valid and that I will, and should change my mind.
Not every pregnancy is perfect, not every pregnant woman is happy, and not every vile, traumatic, and horrific symptom should be sucked up just because I am bringing a life into this world. Over the last 9 months I feel my identity as a human being has been stripped away from me- I am no longer a woman, a human, or Alice- I am a pregnant woman- a lesser being whose feelings and suffering is inconsequential because “all pregnancies are hard”.
To the doctor and midwife that laughed in my face two days ago- I don’t care how many women cried in your office that day and I don’t care if you think that my public outpouring of grief is just hormonal- the pain to me is very real and very valid. As a medical professional you should know the risks of depression and anxiety on me and the baby. I am not just a walking incubator, a womb with legs whose purpose is to deliver a healthy baby at all costs- I am someone who has a right to be heard, to be treated, and to be cared for when they are crying out for help.
To dismiss my terror and worry, to laugh at my pain and suffering, and to mimic my desperate cries for help is not ok. My experience is real, as is every tear that I cry- the fact I am pregnant has no impact on this at all and gives no one any right to treat me like a lesser being.
Just because it is natural does not mean the suffering is any less, and of course, I am not the first woman to be pregnant but that doesn’t mean we all experience things the same.
I feel deeply traumatised after what I have been through these last few months, and what is still yet to come. I am sorry if me not jumping up and down with excitement means I am not a good mother in your eyes, but I don’t care- I have hated every second of this and I never want to experience a moment of this process ever again.
If you had an easy pregnancy, congratulations, if you forgot about every painful moment as soon as you held your baby in your arms, I am happy for you, and if you have seen 10000 other women go through every kind of pregnancy then that is great- but I am not you and I am not them. I really hope things will get better when my baby is born, but I will not forget what has been the most horrific, prolonged, and deeply traumatic experience of my life and I won’t be shamed into silence for expressing what I feel is the truth.
I am not looking for sympathy, just a modicum of understanding.
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