Blogging about pregnancy is a challenge. What information is TMI? What is too personal? Is blogging about pregnancy all about being personal? My fertility story was difficult for me to write because by doing so, I’m opening my inner soul to the world. I admit my faults and reveal my struggles. However doing so has allowed me to continue the process of healing.
This baby is all about healing. I do not know the sex yet, but for ease, I’ll use “she.” She doesn’t know it, but through her miraculous process of coming into being, she is transforming me. She is forcing me to love myself. I physically cannot work myself to death. She makes me rest. I cannot be depressed or stressed. She makes me relax. I am no longer responsible only for myself. What I eat, do, feel, and think affects her. She is healing me because I have to be good to her. She is forcing me to shed my perfectionist and angry shell.
Psychologists say the children of people who suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder tend to suffer from anger management issues. You find it with children of refugees and it’s rampant in Native American communities. I think when you come from a family that escaped genocide, there is a deep sense of inferiority embedded in your psyche. The way I see it, when an entire society deems you unfit to even live, you internalize their hate. I’m half first generation Turkish Cypriot. I grew up in a wonderful, comfortable home in the peaceful United States. But I can see that fight to be acknowledged and respected in both my father and myself. I have nightmares like my grandmother does. She relives the war; I make it up in my subconscious. That history is passed down through our souls. If I can heal myself, can I avoid passing it on to my child?
This pregnancy has been fairly easy. I had nausea for about three weeks during the first trimester, but I have been able to eat. I have some frightening cramping, but it seems to be the discomfort of my growing uterus. I imagine the growth breaking down the endometrial adhesions and helping my body to clear itself of the disease. My body already knows how to expand thanks to past issues with metabolism and digestion. A little thing called wheat gluten can balloon me into a bloated, inflamed size 12. Or I can fit into a slimmer size 6 or 8 if I follow a strict anti-inflammation diet. My friends can attest that in one meal, my stomach can go from its normal pooch to a distended false 6-month pregnancy belly with just one little slice of pizza. The benefit? I probably won’t have stretch marks. My thinning hair rebounded into thick lustrous locks, which I recently chopped off to donate to Pantene Beautiful Lengths. My hips expanded and I grew some breasts. I never needed a sports bra for running, so these new heavy things are amusing.
I cannot feel the baby move yet, but I love to imagine her acrobatics. She was amazingly active at the 12-week ultrasound: turning, kicking, stretching, and moving her hands to her face. I can stare at the 3D photos forever. Her little round belly is so cute and her legs are tiny. She looks like an alien with her protruding cranial bones meeting in a V at her forehead. I cannot wait to see her again for the 20-week ultrasound. I love this baby so much. She is my miracle: my bundle of love and light.