While the world has paused to protect life, I’m praying that my body will keep growing life.
I am 18 weeks pregnant in the middle of a pandemic.
It’s like a menacing storm cloud is looming over all of our
heads while I’m clutching a grow light over my uterus.
This is not my first rodeo in the whole grieving-while-growing-life
experience. My first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage, and I was still
processing the loss when I became pregnant with my daughter.
For ten long months, I held my breath until she took her very first breath,
understanding on a deep, new level the fragility of life.
That experience was solitary, while this one is shared. We’re
collectively longing for the world we once knew—the loss of loved
ones, our routines, physical touch, work, school, gatherings and
graduations. It’s a lot less lonely for me this time, yet it’s still
Before getting to this point, my husband and I had tried
to get pregnant for two years and lost babies two Decembers in a row.
But after a successful 12-week appointment in February, I’d started allowing myself to picture a celebratory pregnancy spent in the presence of family, friends, and other pregnant women. I’d purchased a few new maternity pieces I couldn’t wait to wear for client meetings and photo shoots. Now I can’t help but feel robbed of that joy.
Another source of stress for my family is that my husband is a
radiation oncologist, which means he treats cancer patients.
Fortunately, this is his research year of his residency program, so
he’s been sent home until he needs to start filling in for other sick
doctors. Our heart aches for healthcare workers’ families who are
daily sacrificing for the greater good.
I can’t control what happens inside or outside of my body. What I can control are my actions and my mindset. I’m making a daily practice of calming my brain and seeking joy in the most mundane moments. I’m also finding comfort in knowing I am not alone.
To other pregnant women wading through this pandemic too: I hear you, I stand with you, and we are strong enough to survive this together. And what a story we’ll have to tell our babies!
lead image: jenna norman via unsplash
internal image: courtesy of the author