Gains and Losses

Most obvious gain- belly. Most obvious loss- freedom of movement. I'm bigger. The clerk at Jiffy Lube asked me when I was due, so I'm officially showing for all the world to see. I cannot move as carelessly as I used to. I have to apply new methods to exit the swimming pool or bend over.
These are the obvious gains and losses. All pregnant women outwardly experience these things on some level. But there are gains and losses less talked about in our culture, and I want to talk about them. I'm reading a book called Misconceptions by feminist author Naomi Wolf. This book sets out, in some ways, to balance the bubbly optimism of many books about mothering, such as the famous What to Expect... and other well-circulated pregnancy manuals. Several years ago (6?), I pulled this book off a shelf b/c my friend, Johanna, was pregnant. I thought this looked interesting and bought it for her on a whim. She was my first close friend to have a baby, and I wanted to contribute. She recently sent the book back to me, telling me to read it, "it's the best book on pregnancy I've found." So I dug in.
This is no warm-fuzzy book. Yes, Wolf talks about her personal experience, her excitement at being pregnant, the ups and downs of her physical and emotional condition, and insights she gained as she became a mother. But there is no sugar coating happening here. In fact, her book sometimes dusts off all the sweetness wrapped up in pregnancy for a down and dirty look at how women are expected to deal with such a major and transforming change, and how our culture is often not supportive in effective ways. She talks about gains and losses: "...you get a whole new world...filled with gifts but also with losses." "Indeed," she writes, "the greatest loss for many new mothers is a kind of loss of self." She further states that many women, while outshined by the bliss of a new life, are forced to quietly mourn part of themselves that is lost in the journey.
As I read this book, I find myself occasionally raising my happy-mommy-to-be hackles, feeling that her honesty is almost callous or abrasive. But then I realize, it is HONEST. Despite all the happiness and excitement that I feel as the baby wriggles inside of me, I also feel anxiety and a partial loss of self, even as I become a bigger (literally and figuratively), better mother-self. I want to be defined as a mother. If not, I'd never have gone off birth control. But as I get bigger, I realize that the visual manifestation is the most obvious part of myself that people see. I am pregant lady first, teacher, wife, outdoor enthusiast, animal-lover, etc. second.
I guess in some ways, it is similar to when my mother was sick with cancer. I didn't want that to be how people defined me: the girl whose mother is dying. Certainly, it was an important part of my life, and I wanted people to feel comfortable talking to me about it. But I didn't want their sympathy to overlook my multi-faceted humanness: the fact that I was also getting married, going to graduate school, moving across the country, and participating in life on a daily basis. I don't want the comparison of these two events to imply that I feel negatively about having a child, but both events did at times feel so ALL-CONSUMING that I couldn't help but feel defined, even trapped, by just one aspect of my life. Even as I say this, though, I laugh at myself, who so eagerly awaited the belly. Now that I have it, I am proud to show it off. I choose not to button up coats, because I want others to see that I am pregnant and proud of it. So even my concern with being defined as only pregnant is contradicted by my active attempts to force people to see my big baby bump. You see, emotionally, this is very confusing. I imagine that one day, I will not feel it necessary to separate myself from my pregnancy. Just like now, I have incorporated the loss of my mother into my whole self, and don't feel like it is a mere piece of my puzzle I want to remove or focus on, depending on the time or audience. Soon, pregnancy and ultimately motherhood, will just be part of the bigger picture that is me. Incorporation takes time, however.
And physically, there is no doubt things have changed. I like to think I am just as active as before, but my activities have changed, if not the frequency. Instead of the heavy lifting of the crossfit workouts I used to do with my husband, I find myself opting more often for the cheesy, but appropriate, Jazzercise pregnancy workout. I snowboarded once this season, but have replaced downhill sports for the safer and more peaceful snowshoeing. Less rock-climbing, more yoga. Jogging makes my legs cramp, so I swim laps. I know this is temporary, and I have every intention of taking up more strenuous hobbies as soon as my girl parts heal after delivery, but still...I will have the baby to consider before going out for a jog or heading to the bouldering gym. I know I can and WILL be active, but I also know it will take more effort and planning, and in a way, that is a loss to me.
Then, of course, there's the career to think about. I'm not even a career-oriented person. Those who know me know that I'm a job hopper. But, I take pride in working and strive to do well, regardless of my current position. I don't think I'm full-time stay-at-home mom material. But I really don't know. And how can I know how I'll react? I won't know until the baby comes and maybe many months beyond. However, I must decide soon, whether I plan on returning to work full time, part time, or not at all. Questions plague me, even as I happily think about names and make plans for the nursery. Can we afford for me not to work? Can we afford childcare if I do work? Do I have enough patience to be a full-time teacher and mother? Will my job performance suffer once I become a parent, or worse, will my ability as a mother be affected by the demands of my job? Will the dynamics of my marriage change if I don't work? If I do? Will others respect me more if I stay at home to care for a baby, or put a newborn into childcare to return to work? Which decision will I respect more?
I don't think there's any way to know these answers. But I know that at times it feels like a lonely journey. Regardless of how understanding my husband is (and he is the best), or how extensive my support system is, the decision is ultimately mine. It has to be that way. But still, I feel a bit guilty about sharing these thoughts. I feel the need to justify myself and convince readers that I AM totally thrilled to be pregnant, and extremely excited to meet and raise my child. I'm going to be a MOM! But, even good stress is stress, and having a baby is one of the biggest changes a person can go through. So, why DON'T we give as much air time to the concerns of mothers as we do to the little thrills and the big optimism that we expect throughout pregnancy? Why should I feel guilty for expressing these concerns, when I imagine they are totally natural? In Misconceptions, Wolf argues that women should have the freedom to talk about these issues without worrying about judgment that they aren't ready to be mothers, or that they are selfish. Let us mourn these losses of ourselves and our bodies, even as we rejoice in the wonder of what our bodies can do and how our psyches can adjust to becoming parents.