CHANGE YOUR LIFE - CHANGE THE WAY YOU THINK
Betrayed by my body
I can’t help feeling really stupid when I think of all those times I’ve been sitting in a restaurant – acting all holy – and asked for my meat to be well done and with a glass of non-alcoholic wine (which tastes really awful by the way).
You could almost see the halo above my head, and I enjoyed telling people that it was because I was “knocked up”.
In fact, that was the expression I used. Either that or “a bun in the oven”.
I’ve stayed far away from romantic expressions like “a little life” or “a little seed inside me”. When I think about it more thoroughly, it has probably been to keep a certain emotional detachment to my pregnancy, because I always knew there was an imminent danger that it could go wrong.
I fret when I think of all those times I’ve been playing around with my boyfriend and told him: “It was the baby who told me we should eat 3 chocolate covered marzipan eggs with nougat in the middle”.
Or when I’ve felt there was “activity” in the region where the little shrimp – whose heart I saw beating in week 7+1 – was rummaging about.
Or when I put my hand on my stomach, which by the way got big and round pretty early.
I didn’t have any cravings what so ever. It must have been something I’ve imagined.
There wasn’t any activity! Again, something I’ve imagined.
Apparently my stomach must have been constantly bloated or something, because there certainly wasn’t a fetus growing inside me.
And what about all those nutritional supplements I’ve been filling myself with? Folic acid, fish oil, calcium pills and from week 10 iron pills too and for what? Absolutely nothing.
Fuck that’s just so dumb…
I feel utterly ridiculous having spent money on pregnancy clothes, wasting time and energy talking names with my boyfriend and figuring out how we should deliver the happy news after the nuchal translucency scan. Should we simply buy some tiny shoes and put them in front of the unsuspecting grandparents to be, or maybe we should just ask them “are you doing anything on September 17th?” (The due date), or maybe we should bring the picture from the ultrasound and casually throw it on the dinner table. Yeah, we had a lot of ideas.
But we could forget about all of them! Obviously...
I feel so betrayed and deceived by my own body.
How could it not tell me something was wrong?
How could it make me believe there was life in there when there wasn’t?
Why wasn’t I bleeding or in pain?
Why did I still have headaches?
Why were my breasts still sore?
Why didn’t my pregnancy symptoms go away?
I have never given birth to a child, so I don’t know how it’s supposed to feel when it’s “right” and when it’s a success. I have no idea how to pick up on the danger signals. All I know is that I feel cheated and betrayed, made a fool of by my own body.