25 Weeks Pregnant: Tis the Season to Dress to the Nines

December 8 – December 14: 25 Weeks 0 Days – 25 Weeks 6 Days.

I just read an article about how tech companies throw impressive holiday bashes to retain employees, and not to be outdone, Richard’s company had its party this Saturday on the U.S.S. Hornet, an aircraft carrier. The invitation requested we “dress to impress.” Minor discomforts aside, I’ve felt good in my second trimester, so I was looking forward to it.

I have several high-waisted dresses, and I thought I’d easily be able to squeeze into one of those because it’s only my belly that’s growing, right? Wrong. Thursday evening I tried on dress after dress, and the zippers wouldn’t come anywhere near closing. There was a dress or two that I could use if I was desperate, but nothing that looked that “impressive.” Friday, I headed to the mall to search for a maternity holiday dress.

First stop: Motherhood Maternity. They had a couple nice dresses there, but in response to nearly every one of my hopeful inquiries, the saleswoman replied, “I’m so sorry, we no longer have that in your size.” Disappointed, but unwilling to give up, I got took every marginally winter-appropriate dress they had in my size into the fitting room.

We don’t have bright lights or a good full length mirror at our new home yet, which I guess has left me with some body blind spots. Upon putting on the first mid-thigh-length dress, I turned around in front of the mirror to see how it looked, but froze when I caught a glimpse of the back of my right knee (what’s that area called? The knee pit?). It was blue! Horrified, I laboriously bent and twisted to try to get a better look. Are those spider veins? No, those are definitely varicose veins. Two of them? No, three?! Oh my God. (I still don’t know how many there are, I can’t get into a position where I can closely examine my own knee pit). I tried on all the dresses I’d brought in, but I was so distracted by examining and re-examining the back of my knee that I probably didn’t genuinely see most of them.

Pregnancy Art Therapy - 25 Weeks

“Close your eyes. Visualize your body as you breathe in and out. Try to imagine your breath as a particular color as it enters your body, another color as it exits. What do you see? Draw an outline of a body on a large sheet of paper, and inside, create a watercolor based on your bodily state. Think about what these colors mean to you, where they are densest, where they are most opaque.”

The previous day, I’d tried an art therapy technique in which I drew an outline of my body, meditated on my state, and filled in the outline with watercolor. I feel like I need to do another one using the body shape of me contorting to try to see the back of my knee. The agitation I felt in that moment is probably worth processing. Those varicose veins represented something more significant to me. Maybe I was upset because I saw it as the first evidence of a permanent change pregnancy would have on my body (which is not necessarily the case, sometimes varicose veins shrink or disappear after pregnancy—during pregnancy blood volume goes up 50%, contributing to bulging veins). Maybe seeing them shattered my sense of invincibility, thrusting me into a tempest of worry about all the other things that could go wrong (my gestational diabetes test is this week). Maybe they just made me feel old, unhealthy, or unattractive. I don’t really know.

I was alarmed by the the variety of textures and colors on the back of my knee. (Reality check: they have become less and less pronounced every time I’ve looked at them in the days since—they are not even that bad). I Googled “blood clot vs varicose veins,” as I bumbled through the mall and was satisfied that my symptoms were benign. However, when I got home (empty-handed) I phoned the nurse-midwife who was on-call after hours at my hospital and described my symptoms to be reassured that I was really okay (She was graciously nice about it).

I accepted that I wasn’t going to get a fun new holiday outfit, and resigned myself to wearing an old relaxed white sweater dresses the party. On Saturday morning I headed back to the mall to buy some maternity nylons and other flesh-tone underthings to complement. The saleswoman at Motherhood recognized me and said, “Hey you were in here yesterday, right? That dress you really liked—we just got a shipment in and we have it in your size now. Do you want to try it on?” The previous day, when I looked in the mirror, the appearance of each dress I tried on was outshone by the pulsating blue aura emitted from my gnarly knee pit. With the perspective of a new day I still checked out my new found body change in the full-length mirror, but I was more focused on envisioning which necklace I would wear to match and how I’d do my hair and make-up. Here’s how it turned out:

Maternity holiday dress

Ready for the holiday party!

Richard and I had a lovely time at the holiday party. He was like a kid in a candy store on that aircraft carrier—he wanted to see everything! I’m glad I brought flats, because the stairways were practically ladders. We stayed until almost midnight, which made me recognize how much more energy I have now than I did in my first trimester. One thing I’ve come to depend on in pregnancy is that, for better or worse, every week something changes (And in the big picture, as long as the baby is growing and healthy, it’s all for better). One of the Joyful Pregnancy Affirmations in my Hypnobabies home study class was particularly poignant this week: “I love my pregnant body and accept it every day.” This was the first week I felt like I needed that statement.

I’ve since read up on how to minimize varicose veins to prevent complications. The whole time I’ve been writing this post I’ve been diligently trying to avoid crossing my legs. I’m still trying to figure out how to sleep on my left side and elevate my legs at the same time, but I’ll keep trying (lying on the left prevents the baby from compressing the inferior vena cava, which can inhibit blood from returning to the heart, and elevating the feet prevents blood from pooling in the legs). Daily cardiovascular exercise would help, so maybe it’s time to locate my closest swimming pool. For now I’m off to spend a few minutes in legs up the wall (viparita karani).

6 Weeks Pregnant: Secrets

July 27 – August 7: 6 Weeks 0 Days – 6 Weeks 6 Days.

I was already feeling guilty that I’d told the woman at the baby clothing store I was pregnant before I told Richard, but that was just the beginning of a long-standing trend. We would be visiting my family in Canada soon and seeing Richard’s dad in Northern California after that, so we agreed to wait until at least after we told our families in person to announce our pregnancy to the rest of the world. Of the friends I saw in person before we officially announced, it would be quicker to list who I didn’t tell than who I did tell. I can only think of two occasions that I mustered up the willpower to keep the secret. The only way I could resist telling people was to avoid seeing them face-to-face. Richard was annoyed with me because every day I would come home with stories about other people I’d told (my best friend from home, an acquaintance I met for tea, the woman down the hall I barely know), while he’d continued to keep the burning secret.

I hated keeping my pregnancy under wraps. Obviously everyone has different strategies and different coping mechanisms, but here are some reasons I may not even try to keep it a secret next time ’round:

  • Guilt factor. There are already enough guilt-triggers during pregnancy. I’m supposed to eat leafy greens, but after I choke down one or two broccoli florets and a brussels sprout, my nausea kicks in and the rest of the veggies get pushed to the edge of my plate. I’m not supposed to take hot baths, but baths relieve my nausea and help me relax before bed. The last thing I need is to feel guilty for sharing my joy and excitement with others.
  • Support if things go wrong. Women are told to keep their pregnancy a secret for the first trimester because the rate of miscarriage is higher during that time. What’s the underlying implication here? I can think of a couple possibilities, and I’m not really a fan them. Keep your pregnancy a secret because you might miscarry and…
    • Miscarriages are shameful/your fault/something to be embarrassed about. I don’t want any part in perpetuating this weird stigma around miscarriage. I’m grateful for the stories people have shared with me about miscarriage because they help me accept that miscarriages are a real possibility, that they can happen to anyone, that life goes on, and that you can always try again.
    • You don’t want to burden anyone with news of a miscarriage. If I miscarried, I would definitely reach out to people for support. I’ve never felt like I couldn’t handle hearing that someone miscarried. Just as I’m happy to have conversations with my friends about boyfriend woes, or a sick parent, or an injured back, I am more than happy to listen and support when the topic is miscarriage. Even if I don’t know the person well, I can give the generic response, “I’m so sorry to hear that. How are you doing?” I expect that most grown-ups can withstand the news of a miscarriage.
    • It would be too awkward/painful to make a pregnancy announcement and then have to make a miscarriage announcement. Given that I would reach out to friends for support if I miscarried, I think it would be less awkward to text someone, “I miscarried. Can we get coffee?” than “I know you didn’t know I was pregnant, but I was, and now I miscarried. Can we get coffee?” I can see being uncomfortable to post a miscarriage status on Facebook, so I might avoid announcing online immediately. But I can’t help but think that the discomfort arises from the latent stigma and guilt associated with the previous two points. People post about break-ups, family member deaths, and personal illness (Does “Sick and tired of being sick and tired” sound familiar) all the time on social media. One friend recently chronicled the week-long death of her cat, and got oodles of love and support. What makes miscarriage different?
  • Support if things go right: If you’re nauseated, fatigued, bloated, constipated, have hemorrhoids, and cry on a regular basis, things are going right. That doesn’t mean it’s easy. I appreciated and needed the friends who told me, “It get’s better in the second trimester!” and reminded me, “It’s totally worth the gift you get at the end.” Reaching out to broader networks sooner would have given me more access to mamas who have been there.
  • Ability to use affirming language: Much of what’s wrong with pregnancy and childbirth in the North America is that they are considered a health problems that require medical intervention. Rather than reinforcing that idea in myself, it is important to me that I treat pregnancy and childbirth as normal, healthy, safe physiological processes. Unfortunately, the most obvious excuse to explain away intrusive first trimester symptoms is, “I’m sick.” I said this a couple times, and it felt awful to cast my pregnancy as something I needed to “get better” from. There were a couple days the nausea hit me pretty hard and I wanted to reach out to find last-minute subs for my yoga classes, but I couldn’t bring myself to put “I’m sick” into writing.

Satya, which means truthfulness in Sanskrit, has been a front-runner for our baby’s middle name if we have a daughter. With how much I’ve disliked keeping my pregnancy a secret, it’s feeling more right than ever!

I am more than I know myself to be

When I was a young teen, I used to scour the internet for uplifting quotes that inspired me me to step beyond my perceived limitation, to believe, to hope, and to dream. Years before ever setting foot on a yoga mat, one of the many powerful affirmations I had scrawled in colorful pen in my high school agenda book was “I am more than I know myself to be.” Yoga philosophy is not something someone has to teach us, it is already inside us. It is in our curiosity, in our intuition, and in our wisdom. When a concrete version of yoga philosophy was finally laid out for me in my first yoga teacher training it a huge aha moment for me. It wasn’t that I had learned something new, it was that what I knew all along had been revealed.

I am more than i know myself to be

I am more than i know myself to be

Just one of many related quotes from Shakti Mhi, the teacher of my first yoga teacher training:

Imagine taking a piece of gold and melting it into different forms of jewelry, such as earrings, a ring, a bracelet or a necklace. You show the jewelry to person A, asking him what he sees and he says, “I see earrings, a ring, a bracelet and a necklace.” You show them to person B, asking him what he sees and he says “I see gold.” Person A represents the small self that sees forms and identifies with them. Person B represents the observer who sees the essence beyond forms.