first trimester funk

Before I got pregnant, I was semi-obsessed with pregnancy and childbirth. I was planning to become a birth doula and started reading books about all things reproduction related. I was passionate about being as educated as possible and earned a reputation for being somewhat of a know-it-all among my friends.

Well my friends, I was blindsided when it came to the first trimester. I was prepared for the nausea, the exhaustion, the food aversions. I was all set to puke and pee like crazy. I was ready to snap at my husband and cry at coffee commercials. What I wasn’t exactly primed for was a complete shift in my personality and a frightening anxiety relapse. 

There are three key players in this game – endorphins, hormones and anxiety.

Need a refresher about endorphins? You’re welcome.

The effect of a sudden lack of endorphins really caught me off guard. Before pregnancy, I was seriously active, balancing CrossFit workouts with hot vinyasa yoga, sometimes working out 5 times a week. Both activities were tough at times, and always fulfilling my mind, body and spirit. I was seeing a significant gain in strength through weight training and was in the best cardiovascular shape I’ve ever been in. I was not an athlete growing up so this was my “peak” so to speak. While both CrossFit and yoga are safe during pregnancy when you follow recommended modifications, I withdrew from both. A combination of low energy, nausea and fear held me back from the activities I had grown to love. Well, nobody tells you that when you quit intense exercise cold turkey and become a legit couch potato, the chemicals in your brain change. I missed the endorphin rush and pride that comes after an intense workout, I missed the opportunity to sweat with my friends, I missed the {sometimes tough} love from inspiring coaches and teachers that pushed me beyond my comfort zone. Moral of the story: I felt REAL shitty about myself for becoming a benchwarmer.

Let’s mix those c-r-a-z-y pregnancy hormones into this cocktail. You know what I’m talking about, the “excuse” that is always cited when a pregnant woman does something wacky. Like I said, I expected mood swings, some erratic behavior, and definitely tears. However, I didn’t experience any of that. Instead, I went flat. Dark even. The light was gone. I’m normally bouncing off the walls, chatting, joking, and laughing with my friends. {Fun fact: in preschool, they took me to the kindergarten classroom during naptime because I didn’t sleep and kept the other kids awake trying to talk to them.} Starting around week 6, I barely spoke to anyone. I was a bad friend and nobody wanted to be around me, which made me feel more isolated and dejected, and even more committed to the couch. The real bullshit about hormones? They are powerful, bigger than you sometimes. There’s no “choosing happiness”. People expect you to snap out of your funk and return to normal on their schedule. These hormones, the butt of every pregnancy joke (usually accompanied by an eye-roll), can be responsible for some awful, even unspeakable situations. They can be fierce and out of control. I'm lucky that after several weeks of feeling blue, my hormones evened out and I started feeling more like myself. However, I would be lying to you if I said I wasn’t worried of what could happen once I’m post-partum. I can’t even fathom the idea of feeling the way I did when I have a sweet little babe counting on me to tend to his/her every need with love. I’ve shared this fear with a small group of people, and I trust that whatever happens after baby is born, there will be people looking out for us.

Speaking of being terrified, let’s welcome anxiety to the party. Just like booze, anxiety is okay when managed and in small doses. It can even fuel you to do something you wouldn’t normally do, like take flying lessons or start a business. But big-time anxiety can imprison you in your own life. It basically sucks the {real} good stuff out while pumping in {imaginary} bad stuff. For me, it distracts me from what I have in front of me because I’m panicking about what could happen the next hour, day, week. It dulls occasions that are supposed to be joyful because I’m so sure that over-celebrating will somehow jinx me. Full disclosure: my anxiety used to be worse, to the point of some OCD-type behaviors. I’ve learned to manage my thoughts and actions, and I’ve learned that nothing I do will cause or prevent something bad from happening. Unfortunately, one of the alternatives to panic is withdrawing all together. I found myself struggling to enjoy my pregnancy out of fear of the “what-ifs", basically a self-preservation mechanism. The guilt that came along with failing to connect with my baby also weighed heavily on me, adding to my Molotov cocktail of emotions. 

Please don’t mistake the feelings I've shared for ingratitude. I am incredibly thankful for my sweet tiny baby, my supportive husband and the people that surround us with love. I am also fortunate to be able to identify and confront these emotions in order to successfully work through them. Most importantly, I am able to get help when I need it, without reservation. I know not everyone is as lucky.

I said earlier that one of the alternatives to fear is retreating, like climbing back down the ladder of the high dive because the nerves were too much. The other alternative is taking the leap, having faith that you'll survive and having hope that it will be amazing. Climbing back down the ladder isn't an option anymore. I'm diving in.