The Trials of a Pregnant Introvert
April 9, 2007 by Veronica Mitchell
I went shopping Friday night while Az stayed home with the kids. By the time I got home, it was dark. The air was too cold for anyone to be out on their porches. I pulled into the driveway and I just sat there, free for a few moments in the bliss of being completely unnoticed.
I stayed in the car for maybe 30 minutes, watching the night sky and the trees, soaking in the silence. I have found this stage of pregnancy draining because of my appalling obviousness. I am large and clumsy. I don’t fit between the space people normally leave between chairs anymore. I have to ask them to excuse me. I have to speak up.
I huff when I walk up steps. I cannot even stand in line too long without squatting or leaning to rest. People stare.
I hate this. Now more than ever, I want to fly under the radar. I want to deal with this discomfort, and the disappointment that it isn’t over yet, without the questions and the stares and the playfully harassing demands “Haven’t you had that baby yet?” I want to be silent and secret until I feel ready to face the world.
Az cannot handle silence. He tells me every day that I look angry. He wants my words, and he wants me to tell him frequently that I am not nursing resentment against him. We have been married almost eleven years, and in that time he has not yet accepted that I can have emotions that are not about him. There is no polite and loving way in this marriage to say, “Please be quiet. Leave me alone.”
I want to hide myself in a cave and lie full-length on the cool limestone until it leaches all my troubled heat away. I want to be still and quiet in the dark, and not come out until this baby is ready to be born. I want to coccoon myself, and think about something else for a while.
She will come when she comes. There is nothing I can do about it. And so I want desperately to do nothing and be unnoticed until she comes.
How about “Sweetie, I love you but I don’t feel up to talking right now.”? I’m fairly extroverted but found late pregnancy a serious trial.
Not much longer now. Really.
Beautiful post though a bit solumn. I’ve had similar feelings. The other day I was in a craft store and kept dropping the small items I was holding. I so badly wanted to disappear into the woodwork. Gone is the fluidity with which I can usually just bend down and pick something up. Instead, I grunted and strained to stand again after squatting. Oh, the stares…
I agree with Beck; even being an extrovert, that stage of pregnancy was a trial.
Hang in there!
Breathe.
Expectant moms really get tired of hearing, “Haven’t you had that baby, yet?” When my second child was a week late I lay upon my bed and cried at 11:00 one night, because I thought I was going to be pregnant forever. I awakened at 6:30 the next morning with a strange cramp in my back. By mid- afternoon I was holding my newborn son. She will come very soon, you are in despair mode. Joy comes in the morning!
It seems you’re providing a cocoon for your child and no one can provide that for you.
Very well written.
It’s hard isn’t it–Donn, too, used to think my emotions were about him. He still does it sometimes, so I can relate. I totally agree with Beck’s comment, btw.
Still and quiet in the dark. I love that image–that sounds good to me right now too. She will come soon. Endure your last few days as the ungainly center of attention, as the object of unwelcome comments.
Wonderful post. And beautifully written.
beautifully written post.
blessings,
Karla
So sorry to hear you’re having a difficult time. But, as cliche as it sounds, it will be worth it!
Hang in there.
Maybe his reading this well written post will help him to understand.
Soooo accurate… “still hasn’t accepted that I can have emotions that are not about him.” So nice that they care, so draining that they need to TALK.
Your description of the empty porches and the quiet of being alone made me envious.
Hang in there…And know that there are lots of cocoonists who can really relate!
Good luck with this slow last bit. i remember teh days crawling past when my second child was 10 days late and my husband had been on red alert from a week before the due date - stretched nerves have nothing on it.
I know you don’t need any extra blogging right now, but I nominated you for a Thinking Blog award on my blog. You don’t have to do the passing on of it, but I wanted to put you on my list for being able to make me think even while you’re in the stressful last days of pregnancy when brain function is seriously challenged.
I’m sure this goes without saying, but whatever you do, do NOT ask Dr. Laura for advice on how to communicate to hubby.
And at the risk of upsetting you with the repetition, beck and Mary-lue are right, it’s not much longer!!!
I had to be induced twice and my second pregnancy was miserable with gestational diabetes. I tried eating eggplant, walking, the whole prostaglandins thing (which was obviously thought up by men), evening primrose oil, raspberry leaf tea, etc. etc. etc. . . and I still had to be induced. I so know that feeling you’re having right now. The obvious thing to remember is that the pregnancy has to come to an end at some point. Sometimes it feels like it’s forever. Hang in there.
I re read it. I still like the post!
Your recent entries all read like my own journal from my first pregnancy - feeling just simply miserable, anxious, frustrated and enormous. This is no comfort but still, I’ll remind you that once that kid is lying on your chest, these weeks will all be stories you laugh about later at playgroups. Hang in there. And tell AZ to chill the hell out.
The end of the pregnancy is so hard. Everything is a struggle…you aren’t sleeping…Ugh I feel your pain!