By Brittany Tasesa

My Not Pregnancy – Part 6

I’m Samoa this week for a family reunion.

I definitely don’t have my summer-bod up to date. I like to blame the life growing inside my belly, but unfortunately that life is only 10 weeks and the size of a kumquat as per so probably can’t be to blame for all the abdominal softness trying to compete with the size of my breasts.

I’ve spent the entire time feeling exhausted, and it’s not just heat and the presence of my raging, party-animal family. By 11 I’m already done for the day and it’s nap time – oh did I mention that was AM? By the time dinner rolls around, I barely have the energy to sit myself upright or converse – I feel like one of those floppy blow up balloons that car salesmen think brings in more customers. Despite my mid-day nap I’ve been in bed by 8 most nights.

Unfortunately, it’s also meant that I’m a lot more irritable than normal (I know, how is that even possible?!) and trying not to snap at people around me is like trying to rein in a wild bull that’s seen red; here’s me crying to my mum on the first night because my partner hadn’t given up his seat for me despite the perfectly good one right next door – to be fair there was another lady sitting next to this one who initially had her bag on it to save for someone, but then again she did move it when she saw I needed a seat so. . . Maybe not really a reasonable reaction by my overly-sensitive self. Oh an also that time I had to stop myself from slapping my sister because she didn’t want to jump off the waterfall. I mean really, not wanting to jump to your potential death despite the rest of the family gunning for it is does not really count as a slapping offense.

To Sua Ocean Trench, Upolu, Samoa
From: (because my angles ain’t this good)

Wait. . . is this because I’m exhausted or is this pregnancy induced mood-swings… either way it’s pregnancy-related so sorry not sorry, but it’s not my fault. Blame the kumquat.

I have no real visible signs of pregnancy. As previously alluded to, I do have a bit of a pot-belly going on, lovingly referred to as “pottie” by my mum. I can’t say my “pottie” is because of the pregnancy – that’s just a lifetime love of glucose gurl! That’s not your baby your massaging, that’s your half digested sugar-coated-coke-bottles and Whittaker’s-peanut-slabs you’re rubbing right now. I always thought that when I become pregnant, that would be the trigger to curb my poor eating habits (if I hadn’t already started my new life as a weight-lifting and bikini body champion). This has not been the case at all, in fact, because of my nausea and lack of will power it’s been the complete opposite – probably also confounded by the fact that I’m still not totally committed to the idea that I am going to be popping one right out of my cherry (that’s a metaphor for a baby exiting a vagina in case you didn’t catch it). This is still crazy! What is happening?! I know there were multiple pregnancy tests, I know there was an ultrasound, so I know I’m “pregnant”, but it still just gets me all the time. Maybe it’s because I have this immense nervousness at the potential for a miscarriage.

The threat is seriously real

Miscarriages are so common. My mum has had some, my aunties and my friend recently disclosed that she had had one before the birth of her first baby too! This is so real and yet, I feel like it’s so under wraps! This is not my friends’ sister’s aunts brother-in-law, these are people close to me. I know this risk, therefore I can’t let myself get my hopes up or start getting excited yet. In my line of work, you learn to separate yourself from emotionally difficult subjects – the 22 year old boy you see everyday with his mum who has a terminal illness and will likely pass away in hospital; the 72 year old woman unwell with her 9th admission this year with the same lung problem, who lives alone refusing to go to a rest home because she wants to stay in the house she built and raised her family in alongside her late husband. I’ve applied this line of thinking to my first trimester – don’t think about it too much and avoid telling anyone to make it less real until it’s actually real (but here, you get to experience some of the frustrating symptoms of pregnancy and have nothing physical to show for it. I haven’t even been unwell enough to call in sick, ugh!)

Maybe I could start this retrospective journal of my experiences. Maybe some of these specific frustrations and thoughts would be relatable (I have been writing things down anyway – it’s like I’m always one step ahead of myself). But I’m not ready for it to go out yet, I’m not ready to share my feelings right now. I’m still waiting to tell my grandparents, and once my grandmother knows literally the whole family will too – that’s an exciting prospect. But, I am a sharer, some might say I’m an over-sharer, and I have always enjoyed writing and I’ve kind of wanted to start a blog for a while, so why not start now when it feels like I finally have something relevant to say? Maybe this will help other expectant mums, especially in their first trimester, because most of the blogs I’ve been looking at are pretty vague and are super positive which is sometimes (often) not how I’m feeling.

I would be so happy even if this would help only one other person feel a bit better or validated about what they are experiencing.


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