So far and halfway through my first pregnancy, I am only sure of one thing: that I have a very active fetus.
I’m guessing on everything else.
Having an active fetus is great. I feel my baby all the time and now that he or she is stronger the variety of movement is amusing. It always feels like me and Baby are hanging out: going shopping, traveling to work, or running errands. I imagine the movement is due to the fact that he or she is either terribly bored or super excited about whatever is going on inside me.
On the other side of the coin, when you get used to an active fetus of course you expect it to be active all the time. If stillness is in me too long, I panic. It isn’t surprising as panicking happens to be one of my many talents.
I usually wake up to baby kicks that tell me “wake up!” Me and Baby have imaginary conversations and in the morning he/she drags me out of bed for food, water, and whatever the day has planned for us. One particular morning I woke up and felt nothing. I didn’t think anything of it, mainly because I wasn’t paying attention in my half sleep stupor, and secondly, I anticipated it would come soon. After lying in bed for about 10 minutes I got up and went about my morning grooming routine and the baby kicks didn’t arrive.
When I left the room I said to Anon “the baby isn’t moving” but I wasn’t alarmed just yet. My brain was preparing to throw a level 9 fit but beneath the surface I knew nothing was wrong. I ate a banana and leaned forward on the couch to get movement; Baby was not impressed and still nothing.
I proceeded to warn Anon that if this baby didn’t move (immediately of course) I was going to cry. Again, Baby was not amused. He or she remained still and true to my word, I began to cry. I got up and went back to bed crying. I tried not to cry but that only made me cry more; by then I was officially crying because I was crying and dancing with despair. I told myself “you HAVE to calm down” and thankfully through my meditation practice I started to take deep breaths (as many as I could count), said a prayer and laid still.
Eventually after a few minutes, Baby moved.
I gasped as I did the first time I felt the baby kick and noticed that I didn’t actually feel any better; which I later realized was because I didn’t actually feel worried.
So why, I asked myself, did I open the door and invite my old friends anxiety, fear, and worry in for brunch?
After lying down a few more minutes I got up and dryly announced to Anon that everything was fine, the baby was moving again – he wasn’t surprised. That day Baby was even more active than normal – for all I know, he/she was gearing up for a somersault marathon and had a slow start. But now it was clear, I worried for absolutely no reason at all.
What’s even more frightening about this encounter was that what I thought was a legitimate reason to worry overshadowed what was really happening in the moment. It was like I wanted to worry or that I was fearful merely out of habit. It had finally become apparent to me how habitual my anxiety was.
Through my meditation practice I am learning to detach the two beings that are forever at war with each other in our existence; our earthly wisdom from our minds and our intuition through our spirit. I’ve gotten better at ‘catching’ toxic thoughts that take us on emotional rollercoasters while meditating, but this was the first time I recognized the ride in my everyday life.
I thought about how much power habitual fear has over our lives and how it guides us in directions that not only ignore the truth, but oftentimes diverts us away from it. I allowed my mind to take control and spent an entire day with anxiety and fear. And after I spent weeks addressing my fears about becoming a mother they came back, killed my enthusiasm, and cast a dark shadow on my light. When I cracked the door open for my pushy old friends they bombarded their way in and overstayed their welcome – they always do. This time, though, I think I know how to deal with these pesky problems.
As soon as you recognize your unwanted houseguest are there – anxiety, fear, worry or whoever they may be – don’t show them any hospitality. Don’t offer them second helpings or dessert after they’ve raided your space. Ignore them, breathe, and when they no longer feel welcome, they will go away.