The hormones are a ragin’. I’m not a very emotional person, so it’s very uncomfortable and unusual for me to suddenly have all of my feelings out of whack. My husband has largely been very supportive, but lately things have gotten to me. And the biggest thing that has slowly crawled under my skin is this: I am tired of being treated like a pregnant lady!
Every day I am greeted as a pregnant woman by strangers and friends alike. “How is the baby?” “Do you have morning sickness?” “Is it a boy or a girl?” With the doctor, it’s, “Have you been watching your weight?” My students tell me I don’t have to teach them, even though I insist that I enjoy it. Even my husband has been extra careful around me. He doesn’t touch me the same because he doesn’t want to hurt the baby. He insists on doing certain things for me because he knows I must “have it hard.”
And then there’s the ever growing tummy. I’ve always been a petite person, so to see my belly getting bigger and bigger is quite an alarming sight. I feel fat and heavy and sluggish. I feel less attractive, less mobile, less sexy. More forgetful, more slow, and more tired. Moving around is getting more and more difficult. Even resting in certain positions becomes painful after a while. I’m at the stage of pregnancy where the little bugger is squirming around left and right. I can feel it inside of me. When I’m not thinking about it, when I’m just going about my day, I automatically think it’s gas. That it’s just my body. But then when I stop, I remember that it’s an actual human being kicking from inside of me. It’s not my body. It’s the baby.
Eventually, you start to wonder… Am I even still here? It felt like I was fading away. Like my identity, who I am as a person, no longer mattered. Am I just a vessel for this baby to be transported into this world? I know people mean well. They’re excited. My husband is trying his best to take care of me. But I’m not just a pregnant woman. I’m also a wife. A friend. A teacher. I’m still my own person. I don’t want those things to be taken away from me. I want to be treated as those things as well. I want to keep my responsibilities. I want to have conversations outside of just being pregnant. Sometimes it feels as if all people see when they look at me is my big belly. I’d like people to remember that I’m still here too.
What do you do when you feel invisible? For the first time in my marriage, I felt alone. But the great thing about marriage is that it isn’t just between two people. There’s a third. I honestly forget this too often. But in my lonely, teary nights (it’s the hormones, really!) I remember God is there too. And he always sees me. Not in a weird, creepy way. But in a way that is warm and reassuring.
About five years ago, I had a spiritual and physical encounter with the Holy Spirit. I was at an all-church camp retreat. We had spent the evening talking, fellowshipping, worshipping, and then had all gone to our respective bunks. I had been asleep for most of the night, when suddenly I felt someone hug me. I was still mostly asleep, so I didn’t open my eyes. But I remember the person who hugged me had big, broad, strong shoulders. The embrace felt so comforting — like, no matter what, everything will be okay. It was like a nice cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter day. Or a snuggly blanket. Or your favorite childhood memory of your grandmother. It lasted for several seconds before I fell back asleep. When I woke up the next morning I realized what had happened. In my sleepiness I had assumed it was my then boyfriend (current husband), but I had been in an all-women’s cabin and he wasn’t even at the retreat! I knew it was God. Maybe it was the Holy Spirit. I think it was an angel. But when I have moments when I really need a hug and can’t seem to get one, I remember that hug. I wasn’t even in need of a hug at that time, but God was still there. He just hugged me anyway. And knowing God is just that kind of God is absolute reassurance.
Who am I? Not just a pregnant woman. I’m more than just my physical appearance and my physical condition. But I’m also not just a wife, friend, or teacher. I’m a daughter, disciple, minister, prayer warrior, and heck, princess!
God’s reassurance of my identity gave me what I needed to really communicate my personal struggles to my husband in a more direct way. It sure took a while. We even fought. But eventually, he came around and understood. I still feel fat and gross and heavy. But my husband is more supportive in other ways as well now. And I’m still here. I haven’t faded away.
wandererwonders 