Pregnant and Paralyzed: Resting While I Can
When my husband and I started talking about getting pregnant and growing our family, I had a few feelings in my gut: we wouldn’t have to try very hard or for very long; my pregnancy was going to be lovely and easy; and we would have a girl. Call it my naivety or my overconfidence, but I was convinced that it would all be a piece of cake.
The reality: it took about 5 months before I saw those two magic lines on the pregnancy test; my first trimester was defined by my headaches, dehydration, and aching muscles, and we’re having a boy. I learned a lot of lessons in those contrasting realities (have patience, take it easy, boys are just as exciting) and now, 25 weeks later, hopefully, I can save someone else from my struggle. I’m mostly referring to the headaches, dehydration, and aching muscles, because having patience and gender contentment is a different ball game.
Since announcing my pregnancy in November, the number of comments I’ve received about rest (“sleep now because soon you won’t be able to,” “enjoy it while you can – it’ll be gone soon,” and every variation) is maddening. I’m sure there’s a ton of truth to it, but what use does it do to tell me that? The only purpose those comments serve is to make me apprehensive about parenthood and the situation I’m already into. While it’s likely very true that I won’t sleep well for the next 6 months, those comments are maddening. Now I’m off my soapbox about that piece of the conversation.
The real lesson I’ve learned is the importance of slowing down and giving myself a break, starting as early as the first trimester. Back then, my stubborn self said, “I don’t look or feel pregnant, so I’m okay to complete 2 marathons, sit in my wheelchair for 8+ hours a day, and carry on with a ‘sleep when I’m dead’ mentality.” And with that, my consequence was close behind: headaches, back pain, [a new and very unexciting] rib cage pain, and spouts of lightheadedness. This sounds very dramatic, but please believe my body was suffering with every bit of that drama. It took me about 18 weeks to adopt the lesson learned, but now I spend the majority of my days taking it easy. I’m “enjoying it while I can,” as they say.
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As far as how my disabled body is accommodating this pregnancy, it’s a win/lose. My day-to-day requires many transfers, taking apart then reassembling my wheelchair, pushing myself from place to place, and a lot more effort than most peoples’. A pregnant body produces higher levels of the hormone progesterone to expand my womb to accommodate baby. An increased progesterone level, for mama, means frequent shortness of breath. Our hearts are also pumping 30-50% more blood than normal, causing our heart rate to soar.
What does that look like? That’s me panting after a simple couch transfer, an extra few minutes to unload my wheelchair from my car (and more people saying, “Are you okay? Do you need help?” when they see me panting during it), and few seconds’ rests after racing up the sidewalk when I’m late for an appointment.
These days, I’m constantly reminding myself that “this is all temporary, you’ll be back to yourself soon.” There’s no telling what “back to myself” will look like at the end of this, because there’s one big difference between “myself” in 3 months and “myself” back in 2022: an actual baby.
But it’s still a bit mind-blowing to think of myself as someone’s mother, so we’ll only focus on right now: there’s a baby boy in my belly, he’s kicking like he wants out of there, and I’m heading into one of the most beautiful, exciting adventures of my life.
But for now, I’m going to rest. Soon, apparently, I won’t be able to.