Spirals During High Risk Pregnancy

My baby boy is five months now, and today while cleaning up my Notes on my laptop at work, I stumbled across this little reflection and thought someone out there might appreciate it:

It’s my first day back in the office. My employer has been SO accommodating with me during my first trimester and let me work from home which has (very literally) been a life saver. I truly think this has helped me and Baby get this far.

But last night, I began to spiral at the thought of returning to the office. What if I get a bad case of anxiety? What if my energy plummets and I need to nap or cry? What if I just don’t feel good? What if I need to pee when someone is talking to me? What if my back pain acts up having to sit in my hard chair for eight hours a day?

Growing a baby is in itself a full time job, and I found myself bitter at the world for making women work while pregnant. I’ve never felt so anti-feminist in my life. I got anxious thinking about how I would be able to work in the office when the baby is here—the first time I caught myself seriously picturing having a baby and the practical realities that will bring. I became overwhelmed thinking about my evening commitment, if I would have enough energy after a day socializing with coworkers to still do it. And again, I found myself saying, “Carolyn, stay rooted in the present. You get overwhelmed when you start imagining worst case scenarios in the future.”

Then, feelings of shame and guilt started to hit me hard. Millions of women have done this, and under much more extenuating circumstances. The women who are pregnant while also raising toddlers. The women who have jobs that require them to be on their feet. The women who don’t have flexible hours and kind bosses.

Then again, I had to extend that same kindness to myself. I might have an ideal work situation, but I don’t have an ideal pregnancy situation. Many women pop a pre-natal when pregnant and go about their day. That blows my mind. Their bellies aren’t bruised and tender, they aren’t juggling multiple appointments and medications, and the thought of whether or not their baby is alive isn’t surfacing in their heads every ten minutes.

I’m learning to take things “ten minutes at a time.” Sometimes a half hour. Because often, that’s how long my “episodes” last, whether they be anxiety spirals or energy plummets. I tell myself my future doesn’t hinge on this moment and how I’m feeling, and that in ten minutes to a half hour, I’ll probably be a-okay again. It’s such an exhausting way to live, but it helps to keep me grounded.

The shining light in all of this has been realizing how many times I’ve been anxious about things that simply don’t matter. Pregnancy just orients me. Anxiety over some social thing or a meeting or a deadline are so far beneath me right now that I can’t believe those things used to dictate my life so much.