It's a momentous day for me. Today I'm 20 weeks pregnant! Literally at the half-way mark. There's much to celebrate -- particularly since getting pregnant wasn't easy for us.
It's funny though. Celebration doesn't come naturally for me. I once took a women's professional development class about putting passion into practice. One of the core tenets was to "celebrate". I literally raised my hand and asked the instructor what she meant by that.
There's a voice in my head that tells me not to get too happy -- that getting too happy means just waiting for the other shoe to drop. It's like some invisible glass ceiling when I start to get too joyful -- a nagging voice that says this joy can be taken away at any second (our engagement was a constant stream of acute anxiety for me -- equal parts fearing I would lose my individuality, at the same time fearing Tyler could die every time he got on his motorcycle... good thing I was never melodramatic).
And forget about actually sharing this feeling of happiness with others. That brings a certain vulnerability, letting others know what you want so badly. Because what if it doesn't work out? (I remember a good friend not telling me she was applying to business school until after she already got in -- even though I was already in b-school and could have helped with her application. I told this to another friend who said, "What's weird about that? It would have been so embarrassing if she hadn't gotten in!").
So is it embarrassment? Maybe. There have been loads of great articles written about the 12 week "communication hold" and keeping silent about your pregnancy throughout the first trimester (this article in "Medium" is one of my favorites). The basic gist of the general argument is that miscarriages are so common during the first trimester (as high as 50%, though that also includes the mom not even knowing she was pregnant -- just seeming like a late period) -- so it basically just sucks to tell everyone you're pregnant, only to have to tell everyone you then had a miscarriage.
But why is that the case? As the author of the article in "Medium" writes:
"I wonder whose anxiety we're trying to protect in concealing these first few difficult months. Is this supposed to be for my sake? Are we trying to protect me from the embarrassment of admitting that I can't go 45 minutes without eating and am gaining weight at a rapid clip? That I spend most of the day crying and moaning on the couch, Alicia Florrick my fictional companion? That I'm afraid of losing the pregnancy but can't fathom that this debilitating state of being has anything to do with an actual baby? Are we really trying to save me from having to share the news if I have a miscarriage? Or are we trying to protect our culture from admitting that not all pregnancies are beautiful and easy and make it to term, and that the loss can be absolutely devastating?"
I argue it's something even deeper than anxiety and even embarrassment, which I'm only starting to fully realize now. It's around shame. Shame of having to tell people you love and admire that you had a miscarriage... or that it's hard to get pregnant... or [insert issue here] -- especially when the outside self you seek to cultivate is, well, perfect.
As a recovering perfectionist myself, I recently devoured the book, "The Gifts of Imperfection," by Brene Brown (her TED talk on vulnerability is amazing; link here). She argues that the gifts of imperfection are courage, compassion, and connection -- and that practicing these daily is how we cultivate worthiness (this is now on a sticky note on my computer). In her book, she talks about finding the courage to celebrate those intensely joyful moments even though we've convinced ourselves that savoring happiness is inviting disaster.
The deeper I get into self-reflection and wholehearted living, the more I realize how flawed my black/white - either/or thinking is. Rather, I'm finding it much more useful to think about the world in terms of juxtapositions and "and's". I am joyful to be at 20 weeks and I am nervous that something may go wrong (am I drinking enough water? eating enough protein? getting enough sleep?) Negating or downplaying the joy doesn't reduce the fear -- it makes us numb. And keeping these fears a secret doesn't keep me safe. As I'm learning, it's this vulnerability to open up and admit we're not perfect that allows us to really connect -- with those we love, as well as even strangers (I think back to a post I read about a woman who was convinced even up to her 20 week check-up that the doctor was going to say, "Sorry, just kidding! You're not really pregnant! -- We messed up."; thank goodness for this post -- it has kept me grounded and laughing more than that woman can possibly know.)
So maybe that's why I've been so quiet on this blog for so long. At first, I chalked it up to sheer laziness, tiredness, and nausea from the first trimester, combined with the "in-authenticity" of writing but not being able to share what was truly on my mind. So perhaps this is all a cop-out, writing this halfway into the pregnancy (as the author in the "Medium" article admits as well).
Perhaps. Part of it is that I'm also finally yielding to "the voice" -- that voice in my head that narrates and introspects on my life and urges me to write it all down. Bono once said that he doesn't think about the process of writing songs. He'll just hear notes in his head -- and it's so nagging and annoying, he'll write it down so that he can just go to sleep. I don't think this blog will win any Grammy's, but there's something to be said about yielding to our desires to express ourselves authentically -- letting the voices or notes in our head flow through us, without blocking their way with fear of what others think.
And so with that, let's celebrate!! Before I left for Korea, one of my closest friends and "twin" got me these awesome cards on happiness that you open each day. A few now hang on my closet; this is one of my favorites: "These are the magic years... and therefore magic days... and therefore magic moments." Cheers to that.
It's funny though. Celebration doesn't come naturally for me. I once took a women's professional development class about putting passion into practice. One of the core tenets was to "celebrate". I literally raised my hand and asked the instructor what she meant by that.
There's a voice in my head that tells me not to get too happy -- that getting too happy means just waiting for the other shoe to drop. It's like some invisible glass ceiling when I start to get too joyful -- a nagging voice that says this joy can be taken away at any second (our engagement was a constant stream of acute anxiety for me -- equal parts fearing I would lose my individuality, at the same time fearing Tyler could die every time he got on his motorcycle... good thing I was never melodramatic).
And forget about actually sharing this feeling of happiness with others. That brings a certain vulnerability, letting others know what you want so badly. Because what if it doesn't work out? (I remember a good friend not telling me she was applying to business school until after she already got in -- even though I was already in b-school and could have helped with her application. I told this to another friend who said, "What's weird about that? It would have been so embarrassing if she hadn't gotten in!").
So is it embarrassment? Maybe. There have been loads of great articles written about the 12 week "communication hold" and keeping silent about your pregnancy throughout the first trimester (this article in "Medium" is one of my favorites). The basic gist of the general argument is that miscarriages are so common during the first trimester (as high as 50%, though that also includes the mom not even knowing she was pregnant -- just seeming like a late period) -- so it basically just sucks to tell everyone you're pregnant, only to have to tell everyone you then had a miscarriage.
But why is that the case? As the author of the article in "Medium" writes:
"I wonder whose anxiety we're trying to protect in concealing these first few difficult months. Is this supposed to be for my sake? Are we trying to protect me from the embarrassment of admitting that I can't go 45 minutes without eating and am gaining weight at a rapid clip? That I spend most of the day crying and moaning on the couch, Alicia Florrick my fictional companion? That I'm afraid of losing the pregnancy but can't fathom that this debilitating state of being has anything to do with an actual baby? Are we really trying to save me from having to share the news if I have a miscarriage? Or are we trying to protect our culture from admitting that not all pregnancies are beautiful and easy and make it to term, and that the loss can be absolutely devastating?"
I argue it's something even deeper than anxiety and even embarrassment, which I'm only starting to fully realize now. It's around shame. Shame of having to tell people you love and admire that you had a miscarriage... or that it's hard to get pregnant... or [insert issue here] -- especially when the outside self you seek to cultivate is, well, perfect.
As a recovering perfectionist myself, I recently devoured the book, "The Gifts of Imperfection," by Brene Brown (her TED talk on vulnerability is amazing; link here). She argues that the gifts of imperfection are courage, compassion, and connection -- and that practicing these daily is how we cultivate worthiness (this is now on a sticky note on my computer). In her book, she talks about finding the courage to celebrate those intensely joyful moments even though we've convinced ourselves that savoring happiness is inviting disaster.
The deeper I get into self-reflection and wholehearted living, the more I realize how flawed my black/white - either/or thinking is. Rather, I'm finding it much more useful to think about the world in terms of juxtapositions and "and's". I am joyful to be at 20 weeks and I am nervous that something may go wrong (am I drinking enough water? eating enough protein? getting enough sleep?) Negating or downplaying the joy doesn't reduce the fear -- it makes us numb. And keeping these fears a secret doesn't keep me safe. As I'm learning, it's this vulnerability to open up and admit we're not perfect that allows us to really connect -- with those we love, as well as even strangers (I think back to a post I read about a woman who was convinced even up to her 20 week check-up that the doctor was going to say, "Sorry, just kidding! You're not really pregnant! -- We messed up."; thank goodness for this post -- it has kept me grounded and laughing more than that woman can possibly know.)
So maybe that's why I've been so quiet on this blog for so long. At first, I chalked it up to sheer laziness, tiredness, and nausea from the first trimester, combined with the "in-authenticity" of writing but not being able to share what was truly on my mind. So perhaps this is all a cop-out, writing this halfway into the pregnancy (as the author in the "Medium" article admits as well).
Perhaps. Part of it is that I'm also finally yielding to "the voice" -- that voice in my head that narrates and introspects on my life and urges me to write it all down. Bono once said that he doesn't think about the process of writing songs. He'll just hear notes in his head -- and it's so nagging and annoying, he'll write it down so that he can just go to sleep. I don't think this blog will win any Grammy's, but there's something to be said about yielding to our desires to express ourselves authentically -- letting the voices or notes in our head flow through us, without blocking their way with fear of what others think.
And so with that, let's celebrate!! Before I left for Korea, one of my closest friends and "twin" got me these awesome cards on happiness that you open each day. A few now hang on my closet; this is one of my favorites: "These are the magic years... and therefore magic days... and therefore magic moments." Cheers to that.
