What if the way you thought something would feel is nothing like the way it actually feels?
THE PREGNANCY I IMAGINED
When I imagined finding out I was pregnant, I imagined being married, living in my own home, with emergency funds saved for my entire family—including the children I anticipated having.
I would be 32.
I would stop contraception, try for a month and get pregnant successfully. I would tell the father in some cute, creative way, and I would do the same with my mother.
I would cry tears of joy.
I would have a gender reveal.
I would take photos every single day of my growing bump.
I had already imagined what becoming a mother would look like before I was ever one.
THEN I ACTUALLY GOT PREGNANT
I was in my late twenties.
I wasn’t married.
I wasn’t living in my own home.
I didn’t have the emergency funds saved for my future family.
And I wasn’t trying to conceive.
Instead of tears of joy, I cried tears of fear.
I didn’t have a gender reveal—mostly because I lacked the patience. I photographed my bump only when I felt like it.
I didn’t have a baby shower either, but that was more practical than emotional. Most of my friends and family were abroad.
I was so crushed that I didn’t feel like doing all the cute things I had imagined. Even when I thought about doing them, I physically couldn’t bring myself to.
I remember thinking many times:
This isn’t how this should feel.
I should feel more excited.
But instead of excitement, I felt something else.
Peace.
Calmness.
Like somehow, I knew everything was going to be okay.
And eventually, I started wondering: if everything is okay, does that mean my expectations of what this was supposed to look like were wrong?
Or maybe they just weren’t absolute.
I KEPT WAITING
I never became excited about being pregnant.
I was more so living in shock.
I literally could not believe there was a human growing inside me.
No matter how many ultrasounds I saw, heartbeats I heard, organs I saw, shopping I did, or how many people called me Mommy, I couldn’t believe it.
Even after labour and delivery, when I was holding my daughter in my arms, I couldn’t believe it.
Even today, I look at my daughter sometimes and wonder if one day I’m going to wake up from some coma.
I just can’t believe it.
I didn’t feel guilty about my lack of excitement. I thought it was a bit weird, but otherwise, I didn’t care.
Everything was okay, for the most part.
Everybody else was super excited. I just couldn’t match their energy.
I went through pregnancy almost like I went through my everyday life.
Nothing changed much.
I still walked quickly. I drove myself up until three days before giving birth—and the only reason I didn’t drive for those last three days was because I stayed home.
I ate more, but I already loved food.
I went to work every day I was supposed to.
I never even caught the flu until the week before delivery.
Can you imagine!
But it all felt normal.
I didn’t really feel different.
Well, until I tried lying on my back.
Oh my God! It hurt.
I don’t regret not being excited. I wouldn’t change anything about how I experienced my pregnancy because I can still remember exactly how I felt in those moments.
Maybe I wasn’t waiting to become excited.
Maybe I was looking to feel like everyone else.
WHAT IS PEACE SUPPOSED TO LOOK LIKE?
My idea of peace depends on what aspect of life we’re talking about.
Financial peace looks like getting your monthly bills and knowing they’re automatically paid.
Mental peace is waking up, drinking your coffee and being flooded with positive thoughts. Going through your day without constantly having to think:
What next?
I believe peace looks different for everyone.
So when you see a pregnant woman and she doesn’t have a smile on her face, it doesn’t mean she isn’t excited.
Maybe she just isn’t feeling the smile right now.
But when we see pregnant women, we expect a certain kind of look.
Even though they tell us all pregnancies are different, we still have an expectation of what pregnancy is supposed to look like—and apparently, what it’s supposed to feel like too.
Some of us don’t have excitement in certain areas of our lives because we already have peace there.
I’m not saying I have peace all the time. I don’t.
But there are areas of our lives that we are simply at peace with.
Some people are at peace with their finances. Some with their jobs. Their relationships. Their children.
Maybe peace doesn’t always look exciting.
THE THINGS I THOUGHT I NEEDED
The pre-motherhood version of me wanted marriage because, at the time, marriage meant security.
I don’t know why I thought that.
After talking to so many wives and mothers, I quickly realised that some had husbands who were barely present. Some weren’t supportive. And some simply left.
Owning my own home meant stability.
No one could ask me to leave. I could do projects as I felt like. I could have rooms for my children. I could express myself in my own environment.
An emergency fund meant financial security.
It meant having something for a rainy day.
It meant freedom, control and protection from needing help from anyone else.
I thought I would be 32 because I believed it would take more time to achieve these goals, and I could work towards them steadily.
All in all, these were good goals.
But were they necessary prerequisites?
Maybe being ready isn’t having every box checked.
Maybe readiness is confidence in your ability to do hard things.
Plans are just plans.
It doesn’t mean life will follow the script.
THE VILLAGE I DIDN’T KNOW I NEEDED
Accepting help during my pregnancy wasn’t difficult because it didn’t come from strangers. It came from my inner circle.
Before pregnancy, I thought needing other people meant I was helpless.
I quickly learnt that the village was necessary because you truly cannot do it alone.
When I saw items I was preparing to purchase myself being checked off my baby registry by my family and friends, tears fell down my face each time.
My cousin and aunt unexpectedly bought more than 30 items from my registry.
I didn’t ask.
They just did it.
Every item checked off was one less dollar I had to spend and another dollar that could go towards savings.
I felt like I could physically see my blessings.
And with that, my definition of independence changed.
Independence is the ability to provide for oneself, even if help is accepted from others.
And then there is my mother.
Oh my gosh!
If you ever think your mother doesn’t love you, wait until you have your first child.
If I couldn’t see my mother’s love towards me before, I saw it when I had my daughter.
And I still feel like her little girl.
SHE ALWAYS SHOWS UP FOR ME!
If I told you all the things my mother did for me during my pregnancy and after, I feel like you would try to kidnap her and take her for yourself.
But no!
She is mine.
I already have to share her with my brother!
I want to be there for my daughter as much as my mom continues to be there for me—and even more.
I consider all of this God blessing others so that I could be blessed.
WATCHING GOD WORK
The peace I felt during pregnancy didn’t come immediately.
It came gradually as I watched God work in every single situation.
My faith in God grew rapidly.
I asked Him to work on my behalf, and He did. Every single time.
Every hurdle during my pregnancy seemed to happen at a time when I could either manage it or be supported through it.
Car trouble.
Insurance hiccups.
Unexpected expenses.
They all happened at times when I could work my way through them.
I consider that God’s timing.
And then there was labour.
I was worried I wouldn’t be able to have a natural birth because of the size of the baby or because I simply wouldn’t be able to physically push her out.
So I got very specific with God.
I asked Him for a two-hour labour.
I asked for no tears.
I asked to be able to poop and pee afterwards.
I asked for my genitals to still look normal after birth and not be deformed.
And I asked for tolerable pain.
What did I get?
Three hours and seventeen minutes of labour.
One tear in the muscle of my vaginal wall—not outside.
I could pee.
I could poop.
My genitals still looked normal.
The pain?
40/10.
But I would do it again! Lol.
I consider that God working in my favour because THE STORIES I HAVE HEARD!
My relationship with faith has created an unexpected shift in me, although I’m still working it out.
I don’t pray as robustly or intentionally as I used to.
Sometimes I just have random, inconsistent moments when I pray.
But I never feel like God stops looking over me because I’m inconsistent.
I just keep trying.
I don’t quit on having that consistent relationship with Him.
I keep trying.
I think that counts for something.
I call that God’s grace.
MAYBE PEACE WAS ENOUGH
We’ve all heard the statement:
Motherhood changed me.
But I think we need to be more detailed in our explanations if we want other people to truly understand it.
Motherhood flattened me, rolled me, shaped me, moulded me, pressed me down and made me into something different.
It consumed me, but in a necessary way.
It didn’t take away my identity.
It was just a part of life.
I never thought of myself as just Mommy.
I still saw me.
And I encouraged those around me to see me too because I didn’t want to be drowned out by the existence of my daughter.
Now that I’ve met my daughter, my lack of excitement during pregnancy feels even less important.
Because I genuinely am excited to be her mom and to have her as my daughter.
Even though I spent pregnancy waiting to feel the way other mothers described and never did, I still love my daughter.
And I think that’s enough.
Loving your child is showing up for them.
Loving pregnancy is enjoying the journey of being an incubator.
They’re not the same thing.
I have peace in knowing that I will be a good mom to her.
Maybe I didn’t need to feel like everybody else.
Maybe none of us do.
QUESTION TO CARRY
How much of what we think we’re supposed to feel is actually ours—and how much of it comes from watching everyone else?
And what happens when the things you thought you needed before you could handle something aren’t there, and you discover you’re handling it anyway?
Until next Sunday,
Zu. 🤎
