Posted in Lifestyle

Not Pregnant, Just Fat

This post will be way too much information about my personal life. So read it or don’t. I’m not sugarcoating or censoring anything.

Pregnancy and being pregnant have never really been things at the top of the things I think about daily. In fact, I’ve only thought of pregnancy when I was pregnant. Having kids has never really been at the top of my to-do list. If I end up being a mom, cool; if not, still cool.

And I recently had a scare with this partner, not my first but the first with him. It was not expected, and my partner and I reacted to it very differently. I don’t know how I feel about it.

A little context, for the last two months, maybe, but primarily this last month, my body has been weird. I’ve had some crazy mood swings and nausea, and I was eight days late for my period. Then I started spotting. And for the last few months, my periods haven’t been precisely regular as they used to be, but I’ve never had only spotting. Like ever in my entire life. A million different things could cause this, but I thought I was pregnant.

When my body doesn’t feel right, I ignore all these symptoms. I pretend to be okay, and for a while, everything seems fine—kind of like turning the music up in your car when it starts to make a noise. Usually, my body fixes itself or doesn’t, and I finally go to urgent care. Is this bad? Yes, it is.

About halfway through last week, I was spacey, got nauseous, felt like I was going to fall, and had terrible back pain. I went home early and tried to eat. I knew I felt disgusting, but I hadn’t eaten that day, so I thought soup would help. It didn’t; I threw up the food and slept for over 16hrs. But it wasn’t a restful sleep. I woke up disoriented and seemingly more tired. But I was still nauseous, and my migraine was still there, so I couldn’t help but think maybe I was pregnant. I pretended to be normal all day and then finally told my partner.

I probably should have told him a little better. We were eating sushi, and I started to feel like crap and got all scared. I’m not good with confrontation, and I begin to feel guilty and like an asshole if I feel like I’m hiding something. I just blurted it out.

His reaction was normal for any unexpected announcement; he began to panic. Like full-on panic, he was hyperventilating and getting lightheaded. We got a test, and it’s negative. And he was excited but still in shock, so he threw up. He downed a shot. I don’t blame him.

But the emotions of it hit me. I’m the maybe 40 minutes that he thought I might be pregnant, he saw a future for us. He thought of how unready we were. He thought of us as parents. He said he was scared but thought it would be nice to have a child later in life.

In the month that I thought maybe I was pregnant and should take a test, I didn’t think of any of that. I thought of how my boobs are tender and how I will never reach my goal weight now. I thought of all of the clothes I’d have to buy. I was thankful for a sit-down job because I wouldn’t be on my feet. I never once thought past being pregnant.

I hate that he got to feel relieved when I’m unsure what I am. It wasn’t until the test said not pregnant that I began to think of a baby. And then it felt like the opportunity was taken from me before it got the chance to grow.

Once I started thinking of a baby, I began to think about the fact that I’d had a miscarriage and an abortion within the last four years. I would love to be a mom, but now I’m thinking maybe I shouldn’t be a mother.

I’m twenty-five now. I shouldn’t be so unsure of what I’m doing with my life. Yet I am. Many things point to the fact that I wouldn’t be a good mom—more than just the poor factor. Because being poor has never stopped people before. I have severe anxiety and depression. I can barely keep myself alive. I have a lot of unresolved issues with my parents. My biological father not being there. My mom put a lot of pressure on me to go to college and live the life she didn’t get to have.

I also don’t want to have a child because I fear that my sister, who isn’t in the best place, will have a child and eventually lose custody of that child, and I will have to raise that child. Then I would have two children I couldn’t afford. I know you think that’s a terrible thing to consider is going to happen. But it’s common in my family for someone who shouldn’t have a child to have one and for someone else in my family to foster their children or adopt them.

I think this fear has been something I’ve unconsciously thought of. It affected the way I dated for a while. I’ve dated a few men who already had children. So there would be no pressure to pop out a kid. The idea of having kids wasn’t brought up as often. And it was a lot easier to say, let’s wait until [insert whatever name] is a little older and can understand having a sibling. But it gave me time to get used to being around a child without having to act like a mom.

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