Tag: C-Section

“We” Are NOT Pregnant!

Celebrating Women’s History Month!

If “we” are pregnant, then how come he’s not losing his figure? Why is he not throwing up?

I just heard, for the umpteenth time, the statement, “We’re pregnant!” I gnashed my teeth. I wanted to scream.

WE are not pregnant. SHE is pregnant. HE is expecting. THEY are going to have a baby. She is a pregnant mother-to-be. He is an expectant father.

I am reminded of an old episode of Bewitched—the one in which Darrin claimed to know everything Samantha was experiencing in her first pregnancy. Endora took great offense to his remark (well, when didn’t she take great offense to anything Darrin said?) and decided to place a spell on him so that he would, actually, physically, experience what Samantha was going through.

I think of that episode every time I hear the misbegotten phrase, “We’re pregnant”, and heartily wish that there existed an army of Endoras with no job except that of zapping fathers-to-be with just such a spell.

If “we” are pregnant, then how come he’s not losing his figure? Being awakened throughout the night by a kicking fetus? Why is he not throwing up? Unable to roll over in bed or sleep on his stomach? Why is he not having to purchase a new wardrobe to accommodate his increasing abdomen? Why are his feet not swelling to three times their former size (and, by the way, never quite returning to their pre-pregnancy proportions, necessitating a farewell to many a beloved pair of shoes). Why are his back and pelvis not in agony as they struggle to carry the extra 40 or so pounds packed onto his abdomen? Why is he not spending hours in painful labor, or having a doctor’s whole hand shoved up his inner parts to check dilation?

While I understand the concept of wanting one’s partner to share in the wondrous creation of a new human life which is occurring, to be appreciated for a (minor) role in having begun that new life, the whole phrase, “We are pregnant” seems to me just one more instance of patriarchal males trying to lay unwonted claim to a whole lot more than their fair share. Already, most women still relinquish their names, and therefore a part of their personal identity, upon marriage. Their children, even their female children, generally bear the last name of their presumed male parent. (And, let’s talk turkey here: Guys, short of a DNA test, you are always the presumed male parent.)

But, for the love of heaven, do men also have to lay claim to pregnancy, too? And, if they do, should they not have to actually experience labor and birth? Should some tech wiz female not be inventing a sci-fi apparatus that would allow a “We’re pregnant” partner to share in each and every labor pain for eight or ten or twenty hours? To know the exquisitely unpleasant experience of pushing an object the size of a football out of an opening the size of a golf ball? To be torn from the front opening to the back and then stitched together again? Or perhaps males should be hooked up to that sci-fi machine following an emergency C-section, so that they know what it is to have been sliced and diced, had multiple organs moved out of the way, and then to be unable to fold in the middle: to have to clamber out of bed by rolling off the side, kneeling and then pushing oneself up by elbows on the mattress; then to stumble through the house with a gaping wound from hip to hip, and all in an attempt to care for a sobbing, soggy newborn.

No, no matter how popular and fashionable the phrase, I simply cannot reconcile myself to the utterly ridiculous statement, “We are pregnant”, for “we” are not. She is a pregnant; a mother-to-be, someone undergoing the rigors of creating a new human life. He may, perhaps, be a supportive husband or partner (or not), but he is not physically pregnant. Like clueless Darrin, he is physiologically incapable of undergoing or even psychologically comprehending her experience. He is an expectant father. And that’s simply all there is to it.

This post originally appeared on August 10, 2018, and, being a very opinionated person, my feelings about the phrase haven’t changed a bit!  If anything, they are more adamant.

My Daughter Speaks on Motherhood

Asked by her workplace to write a piece about balancing motherhood and one’s working life, my daughter wrote this moving, funny essay.

On August 23, 2018, I became a mother for the first time, to a beautiful, adventurous baby girl. Getting her here was no easy feat!–but I’m sure most mothers can say this to some degree about their pregnancies and/or giving birth. My personal story, though, is that I had to be scheduled for a labor induction because my blood pressure was getting too high (which was understandable, considering that I was the size of the Goodyear Blimp in the middle of a burning hot Indiana August). So,  one evening my husband, mother, and I went to the hospital to prepare to bring our little “bun” into the world.

Twenty-four hours of labor later, nothing had happened except for several frightening moments as both my own and my baby’s blood pressure and heart rate bottomed out (and zero luck with getting any sleep!)  My OB/GYN (whom my husband refers to as “Dr. Sexy” because, in all honesty, the man really could have been on Grey’s Anatomy!) discussed our options with us. Option 1: Keep waiting and see what happens; Option 2: Stop the induction, let me have a meal, and start the induction again tomorrow (they almost had me on the whole “have a meal” thing!); or, Option 3: Get this show on the road and have a C-section. We went with Option 3. Already on an epidural anesthetic, I was dosed with more and wheeled into the operating room.

My C-section experience was ultimately unremarkable except for being able to feel them cut into me just before they pulled out our little bundle of joy. I do not jest! It really felt like I was in the movie Saw or something! But they snapped a photo of this perfect child and held it in front of my face, knocked me out completely and sewed me up, and I woke up just a little bit later to my beautiful little mini-me.

Adoring MomOnce we were home, I was lucky enough to have my wonderful husband home with us for a month as we got into our new routine as parents. But eventually, my man had to go back to work and it was just me and this tiny little human being. Things didn’t exactly go as planned (when do they ever?), but ultimately, we got through my eight weeks of maternity leave. However, I experienced a whirlwind of postpartum depression, with crying and anxiety spells every day. I informed Dr. Sexy of my problems, and was matched up with an amazing therapist whom I still see to this day, eight-plus months later.

When I was asked by my office to write a blog post for our website about what it’s like to be a new mother and to balance motherhood and work life, I hesitated for perhaps all of 30 seconds before I signed on. I decided to be entirely honest about my experiences.

New motherhood has been hard and intimidating because it brought to light all my own personal “stuff” that I need to work on, as well as a general “What the heck am I doing?!” feeling that I’m certain will never go away. But it’s also been such an amazing, fun, happy, “There’s not enough adjectives to describe it” experience!

When I had to return to work two weeks before Halloween, I planned our routine and our route to the babysitter’s as well as I could, got there early–and then cried in my car for 20 minutes. Each day I felt both excited to be back to helping adults (adults!) with their concerns, as well as sad. At times it was unbearably heart-wrenching to leave my baby girl behind. But I am incredibly fortunate, for I leave her with family each working day, where she is cuddled and loved every moment.

So, to answer the question of how to balance work and family life: I don’t really have a profound answer to give you. All I can tell you is that it gets a little easier each day, even if certain hours are incredibly hard. And that it is so important to practice good self-care. As I said, I still meet with my therapist weekly to work on personal stuff that I want to have a handle on as I help shape my little girl into the woman she will become. I also laugh with my family and friends, have date nights with my husband, and try to acknowledge that it’s okay that I was, and am still, a complex human woman who wants to be present for everything in my life.

So, take it one day, one hour, one moment at a time. Talk to the people who love you. Ask for help. All the “Mommy Club” are here cheering you on! Happy Mother’s Day everyone!