How I Coped with the Unexpected in Pregnancy
I had this vision for my pregnancy. I wanted to be a strong, capable, confident pregnant woman. I wanted to have a natural birth with a doula, no medication, and with all of the tools I would have developed over the course of my pregnancy. I wanted to train for birth like I train for ultramarathons. I wanted to continue doing pullups and deadlifts throughout the extent of my pregnancy. I envisioned my fully pregnant body doing beautiful yoga moves worthy of my instructors bad-ass pregnant woman photo-album. I envisioned myself approaching pregnancy like I approach other challenges and projects in my life—with fortitude, grit, and a no-excuses tenacity. I wanted to be inspired and inspiring. I wanted to impress my future baby when he discovered what a bad ass I was through pregnancy. I wanted to bring this baby into the world from a strong and empowered place.
At about 18 weeks, I started experiencing cramping in my lower abdomen. It felt like period cramping. About 4 days into this, it started to concern me, although not terribly because I wasn’t experiencing bleeding, so I contacted my midwife. They thought it could be related to another condition that I didn’t even know I had until pregnancy, but to be safe had me come in to run tests—all that they tested for came back negative in terms of infections that could be causing what she indicated were contractions. My midwife also had me go to obstetrics to get an ultrasound. Baby looked good, but this scan revealed a diagnosis that changed the course of my pregnancy. Why all the details? When I wasn’t getting a sufficient understanding of what I was grappling with, I did a lot of research on my own to see, based on research, what the odds were of my condition resolving.
Placenta previa is a relatively rare condition where the placenta attaches itself in the wrong place—between baby and cervix—thereby blocking the birth cannel and, if the placenta doesn’t move by 36 weeks, it results in a c-section. Even with a diagnosis of placenta previa, there is still a chance the placenta could migrate, but what I’ve learned is that it’s slower to move if it is oriented posterior and its less likely to move enough if its complete placenta previa. My placenta needed to move 4 cm’s by 36 weeks in order for me to be eligible for a natural birth.
This results in me being completely uncertain—not able to fully plan for a c-section or a vaginal birth. It was a wait-and-see situation. The ultimate purgatory. I have always known I struggle with uncertainty, but the degree that this is a struggle for me was not obvious until this diagnosis. I work with people every single work day to enhance their capacity to accept uncertainty and live meaningfully anyway. I know it is hard, but have an entirely new respect for just how hard it is now.
Not only is there uncertainty around the birth process, I had so much uncertainty about how this pregnancy would go. What kinds of movements are safe? Would I start hemorrhaging? Would I cause harm to my baby? Would the placenta move enough or fast enough for me to be taken off of medical restrictions and be able to run/do pull-ups/do yoga/feel physically myself again during this pregnancy?
In addition to the uncertainty, I struggled with the possibility that I wouldn’t have the labor I envisioned and what this might mean. I struggled to accept that I can’t always will myself into getting what I want. This has been my strategy most of life, but there are hard limitations that exist and cause this strategy to be ineffective. I had to hone a new skillset of how to make meaning amidst the limitations, not just to push through them.
I think this diagnosis was a check to my ego, and one ripe for exploration as I approach middle-age. Perhaps I needed to shed the youthful naivety that says I can do it all. Sometimes, you cannot. And maybe that’s okay.
My struggle with the limitations that resulted from this diagnosis and the loss of a tried-and-true strategy required me to work hard to apply what I know about human psychology, meaning-making, depression, existentialism, and resilience. Here’s how I coped…
My moto was ‘next right move’ and it is remarkable how effective this is. It helped me stay grounded, more in the present, and keeper me from being so overwhelmed. It also helped me align my next action with my values. Instead of mindlessly snacking to cope in a moment of pain, I mindfully made myself a nourishing salad and it was exactly what I need. This next right move, leads me to my next right move—writing an email I’ve been avoiding—and then my next right move—starting to write since I have 40 minutes before my first session.
I tried hard to find the silver lining and not allow myself to get consumed with all that I couldn’t do. There are limitations, but instead of dwelling on them, I attempted to shift my attention to the ways my body can move and what it is capable of. If the high intensity training I am used to is off the table, maybe this is an opportunity to develop on-point nutrition habits. If yoga is off the table, maybe now is the time to hone in on my still mindfulness practice for real. If lifting heavy weights is off the table, maybe now is the time to focus on toning my small accessory muscles in my arms.
I slowed down. Perhaps some of this was depression-ish, but there was something liberating in slowing down and having intentional action as opposed to my default high-energy. The constant buzz of angst I was used to living with propelled me to hurry from thing to thing, talk over others, and constantly be in the future thinking about what needs to be done next and rarely being productive in the present as a result.
I think this is akin to a grieving process. I was in shock/denial at first, then frustrated, then depressed/sad, and am trying to move myself into acceptance. Beyond acceptance, David Kessler who worked with Elizabeth Kubler Ross noted that there is likely another stage of grief—meaning making. Not like a this happened for a reason kind of bullshit, but more of a it’s shitty this happened. How can you make it matter? As a expand into the place of meaning-making, I wondered if this is an opportunity to expand my sense of self before baby gets here. To develop new skills and a broader, more flexible identity. Now that I am on the other side, I do think this diagnosis and how I had to change as a result prepared me to be a more well-rounded mother. I grew in ways that I needed to to better support him, even if I didn’t even know I needed to.
