The Thin Pink Line

I wrote this about 2 days after finding out I was pregnant, I’m 13 weeks now. Over the next few days I’ll post some of the things I wrote before we let the cat out of the bag this weekend. This whole thing is a process and I think it is important that women can read something besides blogs about how blessed and amazing they feel with gross titles like “The Day I Become a Whole Person”, “The Best Thing That Has or Will Ever Happen To You” or “AREN’T YOU SO EXCITED YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE A BABY?! IT IS MAGICAL”, especially in the early months when they are still adjusting to the idea. 

 

“Oh shit”, is all I could say as I sat in the bathroom of a Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf and read the pregnancy test I had just taken. But the second line was faint not a dark pink, like the single “no” line. It was light pink, dare I say, baby pink? It’s a fluke, was my first thought. Then I wondered if I had peed wrong? Or did I hold the stick wrong?

I took to Google, as you do in times of scientific quandary. And the overwhelming verdict was “a line is a line is a line, faint or not. Becky, you pregnant, girl”.

This was not planned. At all.

After the hill incident this summer I was forced to go off the pill and given some of my other medical history (I was diagnosed with polycystic ovarian syndrome back in 2002), we did not think that an “oops” pregnancy was really in the cards for us.

WE WERE WRONG.

I started freaking out the way a teenager might freak out…okay, maybe a little less, seeing as telling my mom and dad resulted in tears of joy, not tears of anger.

I know a lot of women who know they want to be mothers. Some have always known, others get that feeling as they get older and/or meet the person they want to spend their life with.  But not me. I was nor am I one of those kinds of women.

Since this summer, I have seen lots of doctors and I had to inform them first that I was pregnant. They all sounded so happy and so excited!

“Congratulations!”, they would squeal. I had one OBGYN nurse hug me.

And all I could do was smile back weakly.

“Are you excited?!”, the OBGYN nurse chirped.

“Oh, yeah….I guess it hasn’t all sunk in yet,” I would manage to choke out.

But I’m not even sure that’s the case at all. If I’m being 100% honest with you, when I saw the first sonogram and the doctor and that freakin’ nurse where cooing over “that’s your baby” as I looked a screen with a sort of bean on it, I felt zero feelings. I simply turned to them and said “cool, can you print a picture for my husband? I have to get to the office.”

It’s probably not the kind of thing you are supposed to say when you are 35, happily married and pregnant for the first time. I imagine what you are SUPPOSED to say is “We are so excited! We have prayed for this! We can’t wait to be parents!” But for me, I am terrified. I am so worried about becoming a “Mom”. See, things haven’t really gone as planned in my career, I’m not even close to where I want to be professionally and to be quite honest, I’m not even sure where I want to be anymore which makes the prospect of motherhood even scarier.

I’m not stay at home mom material. Some women are and that is so awesome for them and I am happy they get to live the life they want. But for me, I need to work and be creative and be a part of something bigger than my now 3 person family. I fear though because of this lack of a career stronghold, it’s exactly what I’ll become. And then I will resent the kid and my husband and myself. And oh God, what if I try to live vicariously through whatever my kid wants to do or WORSE what if I crush their dreams because I feel mine were crushed? How do I stay social? How do I stay healthy mentally and physically? How do I keep my marriage happy and healthy?

HOW?!

I imagine that these are questions that women face everyday of their lives before and after the birth of their child. And I know I’m not alone. At least I think that logically. But in the blogosphere and all over social media are perfect, happy, smiling moms who joke about their kids but seem to be have happy lives. They are making it work. And I guess that’s what I have to do to a certain extent. But I can’t fight the overwhelming urge to do EVERYTHING I have wanted to do and cram it into the next 6 months before it is too late. I have to write every screenplay idea I have, every TV pilot, I have to go on every audition, film every sketch and edit every reel. I need to learn to ski and climb a mountain. I need to become a French chef, get into shape (somehow), organize my closet, label EVERYTHING, cook meals for the next year that I can freeze.

But I’m EXHAUSTED!  And I’m nauseous. I’m reading all these damn books about eating right and stuff and all I want to eat is a carbs and sugar. But more than anything I feel, I feel nothing.

I don’t feel like this is actually happening I feel like I am floating above myself, watching this play out and being like an obnoxious moviegoer in a horror movie. “BECKY! DO NOT GO IN THERE! RUN!”. I feel like my body doesn’t belong to me anymore and it occurs to me that this is the first of many many things that don’t belong to me anymore.  My body, my life, my time, my space, my heart.

It’s all a bit too much for me  So you will have to excuse me, OBGYN Nurse if I am less than stoked about this thing sucking everything from me.