A New, Emotional Me

Since I was a child, I was not the kind of person to cry freely. I shrug a lot off, bottle up more than I should, and thought suppressing tears that threatened to bubble over was an accomplishment.

Strength was beauty to me. Vulnerability was weakness and there was something so shameful in weakness. Weakness was like a wilting flower, sad and depressing.

Pregnancy changed that frame of mind for me. When I was pregnant, I was at my most vulnerable. Every waking moment was a struggle, a challenge I had to overcome. There were days when I was so uncomfortable, I didn’t even feel like I was myself anymore. I felt as though I were staring down at the water, watching the ripples completely change what I looked like.

Discomfort seemed never-ending.

Then suddenly, everything became still. I would get a day with minimal discomfort and feel like I could finally see myself again. Here I was, I was me, and I could get through this pregnancy.

Those were the days, the days when the waters were still when something lurked there underneath the surface.

It would happen suddenly, without prompting or warning. I would get a tightness in my throat, my eyes would cloud over and my chest would sink.

I found myself asking why a lot back then. I didn’t understand it, this wasn’t the person I was. Alone in my apartment, suddenly I was crying. Not just a sniffle and a lone tear. I was full out bawling, hysterically like my whole world was ending, for absolutely no reason.

It was ugly, it was so foreign to me, and it was this unprovoked weakness. One I thought was brought on by a new blend of emotions my body and my mind weren’t used to processing.

I thought of these emotions as a storm, thinking that along with my pregnancy, this would all pass.

My daughter is 6 months old now, and those emotions are still there. I get teary-eyed watching cartoon movies, I have a full on break down where I watch any movie where a parent receives bad news about their child over the phone like Soul Surfer or Walk. Ride. Rodeo.

Ads turn me into mush and even movies and shows that never affected me before can completely buckle me into an emotional rollercoaster.

That stoic person I once seemed like a distant memory. Now, I am this emotional ball of fatigue.

I definitely have realized that being a parent transforms you. It pulls you out of who you were and opens your eyes up to everything and everyone in a way you may not have considered before. And in that transformation, hopefully, comes a better understanding.

Our idea of women as a society is and has always been that our emotions are unreasonable and irrational. There are so many negative stereotypes that go along with women and our emotions that I personally feel like any public display of my emotion is downplayed or seen more as comical than for what it really is, which is genuine. Not all women are crazy or dramatic, but if someone sees you vulnerable just once, they will act as though that is the only way they’ve ever seen you.

Being a woman who is going through emotional changes is difficult. It’s hard to know who we can reach out to, we don’t know if there is anyone who will validate how we feel and not just make it seem like we are being hormonal. Even other women have fallen into asking us if we are on our periods when we tell them how we are feeling and about changes to our mental and emotional state.

Women are strong. We are given so much to constantly juggle, it’s understandable that at times our emotions get the best of us.

It’s okay. We are human, and our emotions are a huge part of that.

For any of your women out there who have been called over emotional, or crazy, or irrational. For those women who find themselves sobbing hysterically when they are on their own or just crying silently when the loneliness or sadness becomes a little too much.

There is beauty in your heartbreak, there is beauty in your vulnerability and your sadness.

You are beautiful! You are strong!

You can do this!

Men and Women

They say men are from Mars and women are from Venus. That’s a very round about way of saying we couldn’t be more different. I like to chalk it all up to the differences in how we are raised. Girls are told to talk about their feelings, we are constantly asked what we are feeling and what could be wrong with us. Boys are taught to do things, their feelings are often not allowed to flourish quite the same way so they tend not to understand a lot of those feelings, or know how to properly express them.

These may seem like ways of the past, but I can see the differences daily. Boys are superheroes meant to fix things, save people. Girls are princesses. We put our sexes in these boxes and then we complain about what they grow to be.

In 2018, those boxes have grown, become more all-encompassing circles, however it’s not the case for everyone.

I think the differences between men and women seem most obvious to you when you are pregnant. Your hormones are on steroids and you are feeling so much all the time.

The first trimester of pregnancy can be extremely rough. I spent at least an hour in the morning hugging the toilet bowl, for the rest of the day I had that icky feeling you get when you are sure you are going to throw up any moment. Exhaustion shackled me, even something as routine as getting out of bed and getting dressed so I could start my day felt like torture. I was struggling to go through the motions and hoping the next day would somehow be easier.

In the back of my mind I had this fantasy that my husband would be this compassionate man who would rub my feet at every opportunity, pick up the slack around the house when exhaustion got the best of me, and understand what a struggle it all was. In reality, we were both exhausted. My husband has a very physically trying job and I was finally feeling as worn out as he usually did.

Emotions were high and I was feeling a little detached from him. In the back of my mind I kept wondering why he didn’t understand, why he couldn’t see I was growing a little person inside of me. It was a job outside of the job I was already doing every day.

In times like this I think it is important to note that although your husband/partner loves you, the pregnancy isn’t as real to them. They don’t feel those early symptoms, and until they canĀ seeĀ the swollen belly, it’s hard for them to really understand that things are changing inside the body that still looks so familiar to them.

The first trimester can feel very isolating. To everyone else, you still look like the same person. For most moms in their first trimester, the pregnancy is something that you are keeping between you are your partner. You are struggling to cope with all the changes without hinting at anything.

My husband isn’t the villain in my story. I don’t want to paint him out to be. He is my partner and most days, he is my best friend. Try to get pregnant wore us both out a little bit, and on top of everything, we were both working busy hours. This meant that by the time we both got home from work, we were slumped unconscious on the couch. After being together for nine years, we are in this zone of comfort where we are so used to one another’s presence and moods, that a lot goes unsaid. It also means that a lot of the niceties and romances seem to be forgotten.

If I had been a lesbian, I would love to think my partner would be more aware of what I am feeling. I would love to think I would be getting my feet rubbed, desserts brought to me and lotions being rubbed on my growing baby bump day and night. The truth of the matter is all relationships require work. No matter who your partner is, it will require work. Pregnancy, unfortunately, is a time where you are so overwhelmed and tired, you forget you still need to put in the work.

Men, forget to put in the work just like we do. They have the same emotions, jump over similar hurdles. Yet, we still act as though we are on opposing sides.

Patience is key.

As is communication.

Men may be from Mars, and women may be from Venus, but we managed to get together somehow, didn’t we?

Who’s to know what I am saying. I am just an over-emotional pregnant woman wading through uncharted waters hoping I am going the right way. Pretending I know which way is the way to shore.