12 weeks into my fifth pregnancy, my doctor asked me how I was coping emotionally. It was the first time I’d heard that question. Ever.
Nine years ago, when I learned I was pregnant with my oldest daughter, the first thing I did was buy and promptly devour a copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting. I talked at every opportunity with two family members who were just a few months ahead of me, thirsty for any breadcrumbs that would lead me further down the path toward the birth of my little nugget.
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I downloaded the What to Expect app and joined various pregnancy forums, message boards, and social media groups. Members, united only by our hope for healthy pregnancies that would lead to happy, healthy babies, would discuss our bloating and constipation, our round ligament pain and cravings, our nausea and heightened (or nonexistent) sex drives.
With all these access points, I felt well-equipped to get through the physical changes the next nine months would bring.
What was never meaningfully discussed, though, in any of those books or groups or apps or conversations, was the toll that anxiety takes on the pregnant woman’s mind in the weeks and months between the day she sees that first line in that first pregnancy test – so faint she questions its very existence – and the first time she feels that alien yet miraculously welcome flutter in her abdomen.