Matrescence — Whoa Maria

The next adventure: Motherhood.

On paper, the timing is perfect. I am 34, turning 35 the week of the due date for this little one. I am well established in my career and can take time off comfortably (albiet with some loss of upward trajectory). I own my home. I have some savings. I finished my graduate degree. Now is the time to start this phase of my life. I was mentally prepared for my life to change, I thought. I knew that there would be a huge learning curve when learning to take care of this child, but I didn’t know how ill prepared I would be for the pregnancy itself. I thought that this was a manageable life transition evidenced by the fact that going through pregnancy was experienced once for literally every person that is alive today. I didn’t realize that this period was a period of upheaval. I didn’t realize that would affect every part of my life and completely rewire my relationship to every person and process in my life. I reflect below on the things that have changed during this matrescence

My identity

The first trimester hit me like a ton of bricks. Overnight, I could no longer go on 6 mile mountain bike rides on after work on week nights. I couldn’t do my home gym routines. I was lucky if I could get it through the work day without laying down. I couldn’t get cohesive thoughts together. The severe drop off of activity meant that I suddenly wasn’t getting good sleep. I became a walking zombie. I couldn’t change the high that came with sore muscles, reduced inflammation, and a voracious appetite. It was jarring. My body felt completely different to me. My hormones raged, perhaps due to the baby, but I think, mostly due to how differently I treated my body. I was not comforted by people telling me that this was normal. I was alarmed, however, that on the most part, people did not say very much to me at all.

My friendships

The second thing I noticed was that I felt very alone. The process I had for seeing people was broken. I no longer had my “lets go climbing” system. I no longer offered to meet people at the gym. I no longer went to the beach to go surfing. The cheat code I had for friendship no longer worked. I wouldn’t say that they weren’t sympathetic to my plight. I was mostly left alone, because, well I would say that people don’t know what to do with me. No one in my circle of close friendships had done this before.

I lost friendships over this, some in dramatic flashpoints.

Other relationship changes were much less dramatic. I would confide in the hardship with a friend, and dismayingly they would point me in the direction of someone who they knew that has children. I was ex-communicated from my deep relationships into the mommy circle. This happened twice. I am sure these friends meant well, doing the only thing they knew to do to comfort me, but all I saw was a lack of reciprocity. My emotional calls were not met. People fell away silently drifting off into their own lives, punting me away when I became untenable.

On the plus side. I realized how transient the formally most important relationships of my life were. It made me realize how important this relationship with my baby will be. Those people went away. I am making my family now.

My career

With my personal relationships waning, my career started presenting itself to me in sharper relief. A year ago I would have told you that I chose my job for money to pursue the things I wanted recreationally. Now, with the baby coming, I am realizing what in my life exactly will become my legacy. I surprised myself that I did not jump at the opportunity to quit working to focus on my family. Without the complexity of friendship and fitness to distract me, my work felt so engaging. I was having too much fun to just stop I realized. I also realized that my work is the thing that is going to give my children the opportunities that I never had growing up. Sure, I can choose a simpler life with fewer pleasantries to sustain me, but my childhood showed me that what it looked like when chasing financial security leads to a different type of hardship.

I’ve been keeping my head down working these past 15 years not realizing that work was what gave me life. Just when I realized that, I suddenly realized how big a risk to my career it would be to take time off for this baby. They could realize how much they didn’t need me. I will have to ask for personal accommodation in a way I never had before. I would have a harder time working 60 hour weeks. It is suddenly more difficult for me to uproot my life for career opportunities. It’s a big risk just when I realized how important to me my job was.

My Marriage.

My marriage was rock solid. We experienced no first year maelstrom. I felt a love actually enriched by marriage. I wanted so bad to give this man everything he wanted in life and make him a baby. Then this pregnancy happened. I suddenly had less energy. We suddenly have less that we do together. Our shared interests were harder to play out. My patience and energy grew too thin and I saw myself struggling to reciprocate in conversation. At the same time, I was requiring so much more care. He showed up for every thing I needed still, but my insecurity grows high. I was no longer this fierce, powerful, emotionally independent woman he fell in love with. I was growing large and negligent and tired. How could he still be physically and emotionaly attracted to me? My self image suffered and suddenly l couldn’t understand logically why he still wanted me.

My judgement on if my marriage suffered from this pregnancy is still under debate. On the one hand I see that we are experiencing something emotionally that will likely enrich our lives together. On the other, I wish I presented more grace to my partner and put him under less stress.

Someone stopped me yesterday in the hallway at work and commented that they were so happy for me, and that for her pregnancy was her happiest time. I greeted her politely, but the comment came back to me late at night the following day. Is this my happinest time? Am I doing this wrong? Is it all downhill from here?

While it feels painful to see everything I’ve built in life slip away, it feels like a necessary evil to make room for something that is probably bigger than I ever imagined. It must be, for how much room my life made. I can’t wait to have a baby in my arms to serve as a foundation for the legacy I want to leave. It will be all ok.