I always wanted to be a mother. I always thought about who I would marry, what our babies names would be, how many kids we would have (your girl used to want 7 kids…Now I’m good with like 3!). I always imagined how my pregnancy would be and that I wouldn’t be like “all of those pregnant women who are so tired, and just want to sleep all the time”. I totally thought I would be hitting the gym, going on walks, and just make this whole pregnancy thing look and feel so glamorous. Well… That is the last thing my pregnancy was.
My pregnancy was nothing like I expected. From around 8 weeks to 22 weeks I had extreme morning sickness, to the point where standing up or walking would make me physically ill and nauseous. We had just moved to Ireland and were living in the docklands in downtown Dublin at the time, searching for a permanent residence to move into. The area was…. well let’s just be honest. It was downtown. The garbage cans stunk so bad I would throw up on the sidewalks whenever I felt good enough to even leave the house. The area was new to me, so I didn’t feel safe, and all around us were huge corporate building built out of cement. I was completely out of my element, and hormonal, and it was not a great combination.
I had really bad anxiety regarding my pregnancy. What if I left the house and got kidnapped, what would happen to the baby? What if there was a bar fight, and I somehow got stuck in the middle of it and lost the pregnancy? Literally every possible and impossible scenario was always flitting around inside my head every time I left the house. This was a huge reason why I kept my pregnancy a secret until I was 28 weeks. I didn’t want outside advice, judgement, nothing. I was already anxious and didn’t want to be giving updates on my pregnancy. Only my family knew I was expecting and I wouldn’t change a thing. It made the entire pregnancy so intimate, private, and a huge bonding experience for me and Lorenzo. It was really easy keeping it a secret. I moved to a brand new country and knew no one me! I also was bed bound for the first trimester with vertigo and nausea so I couldn’t even meet people if I wanted to.
Around the time I hit 10 weeks, I woke up at dawn with really strong cramps. I didn’t think anything of it, I thought maybe it was something I ate the night before or a new symptom of morning sickness. I tried going back to sleep, but the cramping was continual and got stronger. I decided to run a hot bath to hopefully stop the cramps and then go back to bed. I only stayed in the bath for about 5 minutes when I began to get really dizzy. I started to feel nauseous, and cold, and sweaty. I tried to breathe through it, thinking that I had possibly just run the bath too hot. But I didn’t. I know I didn’t because even when I’m not pregnant I don’t like baths. I don’t even like hot tubs. They’re too hot for my body and usually end up giving me stomach aches. So I knew that the temperature of the bath couldn’t possibly be affecting me because I don’t like hot baths. My vision started to fade to black, and I knew that something was wrong. I tried to get out of the bath tub and was met with the most intense pain I have ever experienced in my entire life. My left side was on fire. It felt like someone had shoved a hot poker right into my side. The only way I can accurately describe it is to have you remember the film Twilight. Now if you have never seen Twilight, shame on you, pause your reading, and watch the film. Now my little Twihards, do you remember when Bella thought James had her mom? And he lured her to the ballet studio only for her to find out it wasn’t actually her mom? Then he pushes her around a bit, Edward shows up, there’s a whole showdown, sexy fight scene, and then James bites Bella to turn her into a vampire. Remember Bella flopping all over the floor screaming that her wrist hurt from the vampire venom? EXACTLY. That was me.
I immediately hopped out of the bath and ran into our bedroom and woke up Lorenzo. I was bawling, and shaking and he couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. I remember crawling onto the bed, and not being able to physically hold my body up anymore. I fell onto the bed holding my side, and rolling back and forth (my Bella moment). My side was still burning, my body was shaking and I was terrified. We had just got to Ireland, we didn’t know where the hospital was, we didn’t have a car, and we didn’t know what to do.
Now here’s a huge disclaimer! My husband and I were raised very differently. I was raised in the country with chickens, goats, dogs, mud, bugs, and American health care. Which means if you aren’t dead or dying, you don’t call an ambulance. My husband was raised in one of Italy’s city centers, with busses, balconies, concrete, and public health care, which means if your tummy hurts you might as well call the ambulance and get checked out anyway. He immediately wanted to call me an ambulance, and I said no! We didn’t know how expensive they were, and we didn’t even know how to call one! So what did we do? We called my mom at 1am Utah time. I can’t even imagine what it was like for my mom to answer the phone in the middle of the night to hear me sobbing and moaning in pain. I couldn’t even talk to her. Lorenzo had to explain everything that was happening.
My parents said not to call an ambulance but to try to set an appointment with a doctor as soon as possible. We then also called Lorenzo’s parents and they immediately told us to call an ambulance. With all of the GP offices closed, and no other alternative we googled how to call an ambulance, Lorenzo dialed the number, and then I ran into the bathroom, fell to my knees and started throwing up.
I was so weak, and in so much pain I couldn’t hold myself up to throw up in the toilet. I laid on the floor of the shower and would roll over to throw up, and then roll back onto my side. Lorenzo called the ambulance, and would wash away the throw up so I wouldn’t have to lay by it. The paramedics had the thickest Irish accent I had ever heard and I honestly don’t know how Lorenzo was able to understand them, but he did it.
With the ambulance on the way, Lorenzo helped me get dressed and helped me down to the entrance of our building. We waited about 20-30 minutes for the ambulance and by the time they got there the burning in my side was gone, I was no longer throwing up, and I felt completely ridiculous. You know when you go to the doctors and you want to show/tell them what has been bothering you only for you to miraculously be healed the day you have your appointment? Yeah, same thing. It’s like I gaslit myself into thinking I was being dramatic. I felt ridiculous and embarrassed because I looked fine. It didn’t look like someone had just shoved a hot fire-poker into my side. It didn’t look like I had just spent the past hour throwing up and rolling around on the bed in agony.
I apologized to the paramedics and told them I was sorry that I was no longer in pain (I also realize how incredibly insane that is, that I was apologizing for not feeling sick), and they kept insisting they didn’t care and that they still wanted to take me to the hospital because they wanted to make sure me and the baby were still okay. We were worried about the cost of the ambulance but were told that all maternity care in Ireland is free and that getting an ambulance only costs €100 which is about $107. So, yeah, I took the ambulance. The paramedics were incredibly sweet and kind, talking and joking with me the whole way to the hospital.
Lorenzo wasn’t allowed to come with me in the ambulance. He went back into the apartment, packed a bag of extra clothes, water, snacks, and walked all the way to the hospital so he could stay with me. Unfortunately, Ireland was still in the last stages of covid precautions, so he wasn’t actually allowed to come inside the room with me. He sat on the street outside of the hospital for 3 hours waiting for me to come back out and I have never been more thankful that this is the man that I married.
The hospital they took me to was only for prenatal care and labor and delivery. The paramedics decided to take me to that hospital since I was pregnant, but were unsure if the hospital would admit me, because they only take women who are 12 weeks. Fortunately they admitted me and I spent the next couple of hours getting blood drawn, giving urine samples, and I got to get an ultrasound to check up on the baby. The nurse was so kind and answered every question I had, and really just made me feel so safe and at peace. Everything turned out okay. The baby was healthy, I hadn’t miscarried, but I did have a kidney infection. I was told that I must have had a UTI, even though I had no symptoms prior to this. They put me on antibiotics and that was that. We were able to go home.
We ended up moving a couples weeks later to our home on the sea. We practically lived on the beach and there were so many paths you could take to go walking and just be outside. My morning sickness began to subside, and I only got sick if I went for a walks. Not being able to explore our new town, and go outside was difficult. Especially since I was so in love with the area. I didn’t know it at the time but my mental health took a huge hit by this. I thought I was crazy. All I did was stay home and sleep all day. I felt numb. I wasn’t happy, but I wasn’t sad, and I could not understand for the life of me why I was being so lazy. So unmotivated. Brushing my teeth everyday was honestly an accomplishment for me at that time, and don’t even get me started on taking showers. If I took a shower, I won the lottery.
I was tired, I was unmotivated, and I was so disappointed in myself. I knew of so many people who had amazing pregnancies! They were working out every day, taking care of their other kids they had, going out to eat with friends, taking pictures, and just made it seem like their lives were going on as usual. I couldn’t understand why I was different. Why was my pregnancy so much harder? Why did I suddenly become so lazy and unmotivated? How come every time I went on a walk around the neighborhood, I was sick for the next two weeks with extreme nausea? It didn’t seem fair. I couldn’t understand my body. It wasn’t functioning like it normally did, and I know, I know, “You were pregnant! Of course, your body feels different”! Yes, but I literally could no longer depend on my body like I used to. I had to learn a completely new way to live, and I was disappointed with it. I didn’t think pregnancy would have affected my body the way it did. The drastic change in how my body worked, felt and functioned. There was a huge disconnect between my mind and my body. I felt like I could not get them in sync.
Your body goes through so many fascinating and amazing changes through this time, but it also feels like you’re not doing anything. Your body takes care of everything for you. There was never a time where I had to consciously think about creating my daughter. My body just did it, and that was hard for me to understand because I didn’t actually feel like I was doing anything. I knew my body was, and I could feel the physical effect of that, but my mind wasn’t doing any of the work, and so I felt like I was lazy. I couldn’t work in Ireland, and even if I could my body and mental health probably wouldn’t have been able to handle it. I had no friends or family nearby, so I didn’t have many people to come stay with me and help. My family was worried and confused on what was going on with me, they also couldn’t understand why my pregnancy was so difficult. I felt completely alone. Lorenzo was here, but he had to work. It was just me. All day, every day. Numb, tired, unmotivated, sick, and lonely.
It wasn’t until after I had my daughter that my mom was talking to me about a woman she had met, who said she had a similar pregnancy and that she had been diagnosed with prenatal depression. I had never heard of prenatal depression; I honestly didn’t know that it existed. I had people talk to me about postpartum depression, but never prenatal depression. I never knew of anybody who had it either. Nothing! I was never officially diagnosed with it, because I didn’t even hear the term prenatal depression until my daughter was about 4 months old. But if I had it probably could have helped me so much during my pregnancy. I would have been able to know to search for help and that it wasn’t just “how pregnancy is”. I’m hoping and praying my next pregnancy will be different, but It’s reassuring to now know what to look for, and that there are resources I can access to get help.
I don’t know how the US handles prenatal care but in Ireland as I progressed in my pregnancy all of my appointments were split between the GP and the hospital. When you are in your first trimester you go to your GP and tell them that you are pregnant, then they will write a referral letter to the hospital where they will accept you as a patient once you are 12 weeks. At 12 weeks you book your first appointment with the hospital where they do a routine checkup on you and the baby. After this appointment you don’t see your doctor until about 20-22 weeks to find out the sex. Then the appointments switch between the hospital and the GP every 2 weeks until you hit 36 weeks. After 36 weeks you switch between the hospital and GP every week until you deliver.
We found out we were having a girl when I was 22 weeks. Two years before we even started trying to have kids, I knew that we were going to have a girl. I felt it with my whole being. We were even discussing names, and Lorenzo loved the name Giorgia, and as soon as he said it my whole body burned and my heart felt like it was going to burst. I immediately said, “Rose. Giorgia Rose. That’s her, that’s her name”. I am a very intuitive person. I trust and listen to my intuition implicitly. My intuition led me to my husband. It brought us to Ireland. It told me exactly what child I would be carrying in my womb. Two years before we even wanted kids I knew her, and I knew that she was waiting to come join us. At my 22 week appointment I wasn’t surprised that she was a girl. I knew it two years before we were even ready for her. I went home feeling like an incredibly awakened and powerful woman.
After our 22 week scan I would switch from the GP to the hospital appointments. At the GP they would feel my belly, listen to her heart beat, have me pee in a cup and I was good to go. I much preferred the Hospital visits since I got ultrasound and could hear her heartbeat. I would pee in a cup, get an ultrasound (my favorite part) and get my blood drawn. Now, if you know me, you know I don’t do needles. I will willingly do it for a piercing, but for drawing blood? NO THANK YOU! I get incredibly sick. Every time they drew my blood I would have to lie down because I was going to vomit or pass out. I also have minuscule veins that no nurse can find, so every hospital visit I had multiple nurses jab me with needles to try to find a vein. Usually by the third nurse they were able to draw my blood, but by that point I was a goner. Those visits were the hardest.
Around this time, I also became anemic… I swear I got every pregnancy symptom in the book. They put me on iron pills, which by the way make you incredibly constipated, and I was even taking nausea medicine from 8 weeks, which again makes you incredibly constipated (I told you we were going to be unfiltered here). Your girl could not poop for the life of her. They just kept telling me to drink more water, but then I had to pee every 10 minutes. And even with the iron pills, I was never really ever able to get up to the level that they wanted. So, at one point I stopped taking them, and my iron level plummeted and I had to get on them again. Which, now thinking about it, my low iron levels probably explain why I craved lentils all day, every day, for every meal…
Now, I want to talk about something that I worked really hard during my pregnancy to appreciate and that would be my stretch marks. During my whole pregnancy I gained 60-65lbs. I gained a lot of weight, AND THAT IS OKAY. I have stretch marks on my breasts, my arms, my bikini line, inner thighs, my love handles and all over my belly, and when I say all over my belly, I literally mean from my vulva to about 3-4 inches above my belly button. Stretch marks were my biggest fear going into this pregnancy, but coming out the other side they are my most prized reminder of how incredible my body is.
My body grew another human being. Not only did it grow another human being, it held, nurtured, and protected that human being. It worked hard, and you can physically see that by the markings on my body. I will never be ashamed of them, and I will never stop showing up in the body I have now just because it is different than 16, 19, 24 year old me. My boobs are heavy and soft, my belly jiggles and has marks, clothes fit me differently, and that is okay. I may not feel 100% confident every single day, but who does? My body’s changes did not, and will not change my intrinsic value as a human being, a wife, or a mother. And if that is something you struggle with too, then you’re not alone. I understand. I don’t think we are meant to be the same person we were before our pregnancy. The shift into motherhood is a life changing event and everything that it touches changes. Our bodies were touched by motherhood the most so it’s no wonder that they will be, feel, and act different coming out the other end.
Around 30 weeks, I woke up suddenly in the middle of the night. It felt like I had just gone on a roller coaster. My stomach had flipped. The baby had flipped, I was sure of it. I had an appointment within the next couple of days, and sure enough the ultrasound showed the baby’s head up and her bum down. They told me not to worry and that I had enough time for her to flip back into position, and sent me on my way. I was a little upset because they didn’t tell me how to help her flip back, so I YouTubed and googled and tried a bunch of different positions in the hope that she would flip before her due date. Which also gave me the craziest suggestions like “Lie upside down on an ironing board that is leaning against the couch”. I couldn’t have gotten into that position if I even wanted to!
I was scared of having a c-section. I didn’t want a c-section. I had planned for a vaginal birth, with no epidural, and delayed cord clamping. I felt that by having a c-section I wasn’t going to have a “real birthing experience” whatever that means. I realize how ignorant that is now, but I was scared. I didn’t feel in control of a c-section. There’s nothing I could do to deliver my baby during a c-section other than lie there. I didn’t want a scar. I had never had a surgery (I don’t count getting my tonsils out, or wisdom teeth, because I don’t know, it just feels different and not *surgery*, you know?), so I was terrified. I hoped and prayed that she would just flip right on back into position. I kept trying different positions but really only time would tell if she flipped or not, so all I could do was wait.
Now, let’s backtrack just a second to when I mentioned that at 33 weeks I had basically every symptom of preeclampsia. I was laying on the couch and I noticed that there was something wrong with my eyesight. Now for someone who has better than 20/20 vision, I knew something was up, but just brushed it off and thought that there was something in my eye. But as the day continued, I felt light headed, my head hurt, I was nauseous and fatigued, I felt like there was a weight on my chest and my ankles were suddenly more swollen than they were 20 minutes ago. I immediately went to Dr. Google where I learned I may have preeclampsia. I called my sister who’s a nurse, and she said I should probably get looked at just to be safe. Since it was the weekend all of the GP offices were closed. So off to the emergency room we went. They basically confirmed that yes, I had about every single sign of preeclampsia except for high blood pressure and that they would continue to monitor me weekly at the hospital to make sure that it never went up. I was super fortunate to have all of the preeclampsia symptoms go away within about 1-2 weeks, and my blood pressure, thankfully, never went up.
At 36 weeks she was still breech. I had an ultrasound done that confirmed she was still breech, but not only that, she was Frank Breech. Frank Breech is when the baby’s head and feet are up towards your ribs, and their bum in down in your pelvic floor. They gave me two options; I could schedule a c-section or I could have an ECV. An ECV is when a provider manually flips your baby by putting their hands on your belly, finding the baby’s head and bum, and manually turn them. I did my research. Learned that ECV’s have a success rate of only 60%, could possibly put the baby in distress, and was incredibly painful. By this point I had a couple of weeks to think about a c-section, and I felt such an odd sense of peace about it. I almost didn’t want to do an ECV because I felt so at peace with a c-section. I didn’t realize it at this time, but I definitely think my intuition was trying to tell me that I would need to have a c-section and that it was going to be okay. That it would be the best thing for me and Giorgia. But I decided to go through with the ECV just to see if we could get her to flip.
When the nurse came to bring me to the room, she asked what position my baby was in. I said that she was a Frank Breech baby and she said, and I quote, “Oh you have no hopes of turning her then!”. I think she saw my face fall and then said, “Well, maybe if she’s not your first we can get her to turn. Is she your first?” I said yes, and she said, “Yup. That baby isn’t turning”. and then left me and Lorenzo in the room to go get the doctor.
I was dumbfounded. Did she really just say that? Why am I even here if they already know this baby isn’t going to flip?! I sat down on the bed and the nurse came back with the doctor. The doctor then asked me the same questions as the nurse and basically told me the same thing. That her being a Frank Breech baby, and this being my first pregnancy my abdominal muscles would be too tight to get her to flip, but that they would try anyway. I honestly should have left right then and not done it, but I didn’t.
They laid me back on the bed and then began to feel and push my stomach to find the baby’s head and bum. She counted down from three and then began to push and the breath was sucked out of my lungs. It was immediate intense pain. The doctor and nurse kept telling me to relax, but I physically could not. I was breathing like an Olympic weightlifter. I had silent tears streaming down my face, and I was in so much pain I could not utter a single noise. They tried to flip her 3 times, but she wouldn’t budge. I had to stay there for the next 15 minutes monitoring her movements to make sure that attempting the ECV hadn’t put her in distress. Everything was fine, so I scheduled my c-section and headed home.
I was scheduled for my C section at 39 weeks. They didn’t want me to wait any longer because they didn’t want her to descend into my pelvis. I never had contractions. I don’t even know what a contraction feels like. I was never checked to see if I was dilated or effaced. I never got the GBS swab. I don’t really know why…. The only thing they did about a week before my c section was test me for chlamydia…. I was told that I was supposed to be tested during my first trimester but that I never was, and that it was “better late than never”. The doctor handed me a swab showed me the bathroom and shut the door. I swabbed myself for chlamydia and then went home. It was quite an experience. I don’t think it was necessary at 39 weeks. I can assure you I was too tired to be having sex with ANYONE at 38-39 weeks pregnant, but apparently it was too important to skip!
My whole pregnancy wasn’t like anything I expected. It was incredibly difficult and lonely, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous for my next pregnancies. I am, I’m really scared. But I would do it over and over again. Everything that came after irrevocably changed me. I gained such a stronger more appreciative and sacred view of women, and womanhood in general. Women are amazing. We literally are a portal to earth. We create life (with a little help). I am so unashamedly a divine, powerful, wild, sensual, compassionate, creative, intuitive woman. And so are all of you. Whether you have or have not had a child yet, or you never plan to. You are all of those things and more, and I hope you feel that. I hope you know how vast your influence is, how profound your magic and power are, and I hope that you are never ashamed or scared to share it with those around you.
