The Thief of Joy

A lot of pregnancy seems to be tainted by the comparison game. The thief of joy. Bump size. Due date. Ease of symptoms. Life situations. 

Dallin and I didn’t make any plans for the end of summer months because we were planning on for sure having moved to Washington by now. In the ideal dream, we would be renovating a cute fixer-upper house, and working on baby girl's nursery. Dallin would have started his new job, and my pregnancy would be flying by. 

It wasn’t in the cards to still be in Provo right now. Unemployed. Renting. And having the slowest pregnancy in the history of the world. It's really hard not to compare our life right now to other people who seem to be doing it all. 

Just because we’re on the theme of complaining, my pregnancy has been anything but peaceful. 

My baby is under the 10th percentile in size and weight, so I’ve been referred to a Maternal Fetal Medicine specialist because they are worried there is something wrong with her, or the placenta to cause her size.

I wish doctors would just tell you if you need to be worried or not about a problem. I wish they would just tell me everything they know, every possible outcome, and every possible thing to be hopeful about. Then I wouldn’t be stuck going to Google for all my answers, or just feeling defeated that my body can’t grow a normal sized baby. 

They told me if something is wrong with her then the MFM specialist will be my caregiver for the duration of my pregnancy. But I don’t even know where we’ll be living the rest of my pregnancy. What if Dallin miraculously gets a job next month? Then I’ll have to start all over with a new doctor somewhere random. 

They told me that if something is wrong with her that’s causing her to be so small, then I’ll most likely have to be induced early so she can spend time in the NICU. I want to do whatever I need to so my daughter can be healthy, but that may mean throwing all my dreams of a holistic and unmedicated birth out the window. I didn’t want my birth experience to be filled with rushing doctors, tubes, wires and needles. I wanted to labor at home before going to the hospital, feel my water naturally break, enjoy finding relief in a birthing tub, feel close to my birthing team (whom I haven’t even chosen yet because I don’t know where I will be giving birth), and then push my body to its maximum ability by doing it all without medication. 

Who knows if that would have even been possible had everything been normal. But at least it would be an option. 

It feels really hurtful to have options taken from me. To not be in control. 

I'm coming back to this post a few hours later, had a good cry and now I'm eating my favorite Mac n Cheese. I think it's totally okay to complain every once in a while, and honestly I am really nervous about my baby, and I pray every day that I can carry her full term. 

BUT I know many of the negative feelings I am burdened by are present because I let myself fall into the trap of comparing my journey to that of someone else's. God has given trials to every one of His children, and I am confident that one day I will see that being unemployed, throwing up daily, and carrying a teeny tiny baby was for my benefit, and God was there every step of the way.