From Baby to Toddler: First Birthday and First Anniversary of Birthing

MILESTONES VS ANNIVERSARIES

Milestones are typically cumulative: one leads to the next and to the next, either in number (as with birthdays) or in skill level (as with motor development). Anniversaries, on the other hand, are a remembering of a singular event. Milestones feel like an accomplishment, a moving forward. Anniversaries feel like pausing and looking back, to see how far we’ve come.

The first birthday of my child was a strange mix of both. Their first birthday: a huge milestone, and hopefully the first of many birthdays to come. The one-year anniversary of their birth: this time last year I was in labour for four days, having an experience unlike any other in my life.

The birthday celebration feels very external – it’s about the baby, how much they’ve changed and grown in one year (so much!) and celebrating with family. The anniversary of birthing feels very internal and personal. It’s an experience I went through with my husband that we have only shared with a couple people.

So how are you supposed to celebrate these two highly interconnected experiences that are so wildly different?

FIRST BIRTHDAY: IS IT REALLY THAT IMPORTANT?

For most birthdays, it’s all about the person who’s birthday it is. But for a child’s first birthday, they don’t really understand what’s happening, don’t have any expectations of what a birthday is, and won’t be disappointed if it is skipped altogether. So why bother with all the fuss?

For the parents of course! Getting through the first year of your child’s life is a huge accomplishment. Whether it felt easy or hard, take this excuse to celebrate!

We initially didn’t really care about having a party. Everyone was busy, I was navigating the end of parental leave and returning to work, and our kid was just starting daycare and was exhausted. But we knew we would feel disappointed if we didn’t. So we made it work. We had a small family gathering outdoors and our baby got to try cake for the first time. It was nothing extravagent but it was definitely important.

Our baby is now officially a toddler (but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop calling them my baby).

REMEMBERING THE BIRTHING PROCESS

In the days leading up to my baby’s first birthday, I was tracking what was happening the year before. A year ago at this time I was just starting labour. A year ago at this time we were talking to the midwife for the second day in a row. A year ago at this time things were getting pretty intense and I was already exhausted. A year ago at this time we were heading to the hospital. A year ago at this time we were holding our baby for the first time.

I had a long slow labour. This remembering, therefore, spans the three days prior to my baby’s birthday as well as the birthday itself. At the same time as wanting to remember these experiences, life was continuing on. I was at work one of those days. We were doing two hour daycare visits on two of those days. My husband was working for three of those days and we didn’t have much time to reminisce together. So sometimes, something important had happened the year prior, but the moment had already passed by the time I had the awareness to remember.

It felt like I was doing the experience and myself a disservice by missing these key moments. But really, no one around me knew or cared. It was just for myself and therefore I can decide how and when I remember them. Not remembering them at that exact moment a year later doesn’t mean they didn’t happen, that I’ve forgotten about them, or that I’m ignoring the impact they had. It just means that it was one experience, a moment in time, and I am continuing to live my life beyond that moment.

I definitely want to find a way to commemorate this experience more concretely next year. I want to include my husband, and potentially even my child, in my remembering process. I want to build a tradition.

BUILDING TRADITIONS

Traditions are important. They are used to mark milestones (such as having a birthday celebration) and anniversaries (such as going on a date or exchanging gifts on your wedding anniversary). Because of this, a tradition can tie these two wildly different connected experiences toogether.

For me, a tradition around my birthing experience would involve some recognition of the intensity and endurance involved in that experience. It would be a remembering and celebrating of what my body was and is capable of and the role my husband played in supporting me through that process. This year, I did this mostly on my own, internally, with a bit of sharing with my husband.

A tradition around my child’s birthday would be pretty typical – the cake and candles, the presents, and the family gathering. I also want to include a reflection on the past year – some of my child’s, and our family’s, important experiences, challenges, and achievements. This year, we had a family party with cake (no candles because fire and one-year-olds is a dangerous combination), and my husband and I did a quiet re-reading of our monthly baby journal entries and a look back through our pictures and videos.

One way we could combine these experiences in the future is with a candle. I would light the candle on the anniversary of when my labour started, each of the next few evenings we would share some memories of the labour experience and the past year of our child’s life, and on their birthday we would light the candles on their birthday cake (or cupcake if the actual party is on a different day) using the same candle. My labour candle lights my child’s birthday candles. It has the symbolism and recognition I’m looking for.

Maybe next year I’ll write another post describing what we actually end up doing. Until then, let me know what your experience of your child’s first birthday was. How do you comemorate your labour and birthing experience?


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Let’s Talk Gender S2E8: Nonbinary Pregnancy and Parenting

Hi everyone. Welcome back to Let’s Talk Gender.

This episode is about pregnancy and parenting as a nonbinary person including navigating the incredibly gendered world of fertility and pregnancy, the physical experience of being pregnant, and my thoughts as I look ahead to parenting.

FERTILITY AND TRYING TO CONCEIVE

Over the course of four years, my husband and I tried as many methods of getting pregnant as we could access. This included home insemination, known donor, IUI, and eventually IVF. I have heard many stories from folks who have gotten pregnant after only a couple tries of these earlier methods but, for no discernible medical reason, this was not the case for us. 

The IUI (intrauterine insemination) trials were done at a fertility clinic. Their language was generally inclusive of gay couples (referring to the partner as ‘partner’ instead of husband) but all the references to patient were female. We also ran into a few situations where, once my partner was identified as a man, people were confused as to why we were using donor sperm. Most notably, the psychologist we had to see to get the go-ahead to use donor sperm (which seemed strange to begin with) wanted to talk about if there was any guilt or shame on my husband’s part about not being able to provide viable sperm and when he stated he was trans she became very interested and curious, wanting to ask a bunch of irrelevant questions about his transness, and nearly derailed the appointment multiple times. You can bet I provided feedback about that encounter. 

The fertility clinic itself also did not have a gender neutral bathroom option and I had to empty my bladder immediately before each procedure. So that was fun. I did end up finding a single use bathroom in one of the medical areas during the IVF but it required a staff member to use a swipe card to get there so not actually for public use. 

I never came out to the fertility clinic, doctor, or nurses as nonbinary. With all the emotional ups and downs of trying to conceive, I didn’t have enough energy to educate or correct any misgendering that would happen afterwards. It was easier to let them assume I was female and deal with the dysphoria as best I could. 

Honestly, I didn’t find the IUI attempts to be that difficult. The procedures were fast with just me and Jake and a nurse in the suite, no high tech stuff. And it was only one procedure every two months. We decided early on that we needed to take a month off between trials to reset and breathe emotionally. Otherwise we would be required to order the next round of donor sperm before finding out if the previous trial had worked which felt a bit like having bad karma by assuming it wouldn’t. 

The IVF process was much more invasive and dysphoria inducing at times. They had to do an internal ultrasound as a baseline, after one week, and then every other day or every day thereafter for about five more visits before the actual procedure was scheduled. The ultrasound wand is much bigger than an insemination catheter and they had to move it around and dig it in to get good images of both ovaries. If my gender happened to be more female aligned on that day, this was mostly just physically uncomfortable. But there were a couple times when my gender was particularly male aligned and let me tell you, the dysphoria during the procedures on those days was a hell of a lot more uncomfortable than the physical part. I think I death gripped my husband’s hand to keep from crying at one point. Oh, and did I mention that these all had to take place first thing in the morning before I went to work? Where I’m also not out to most people and have a decent amount of dysphoria? Those were not good days. But hey, at the time of this recording I am 37 weeks pregnant and by the time this airs we will hopefully have been parents for a couple months so as far as I’m concerned, it was all worth it. 

PREGNANCY, MISCARRIAGE, AND GENDER

Being pregnant comes with its own slew of gendery things. One of those IUI attempts actually did work though it turned out that the egg that was inseminated was empty. I didn’t know this was something that could happen but apparently it’s very common. Usually these types of pregnancies end in miscarriage before the person even knows they’re pregnant. But my body was so ready to be pregnant it did a really good job of implantation and building a gestational sac despite the fact that nothing was growing inside it. So I experienced all the symptoms of early pregnancy until 10 weeks. 

During this first pregnancy, my gender shifted early on to the far end of my female range (which is still only about halfway from neutral) and stayed there. At first I was grateful. I had so much less dysphoria, both social and physical, and without the gender shifts I didn’t have to pay attention to my gender as much or worry about dysphoria taking me by surprise. But after a few weeks I started to feel like a part of myself, that I had only recently gotten to know, was missing. The male half of me that I knew was still there felt like a ghost, something I couldn’t quite touch, feel, or embody. The times I was interacting with queer friends who knew me as Ray felt dysphoric in a way they hadn’t before. I didn’t feel like Ray at all. It was very strange and disconcerting. 

After the miscarriage I was worried that my gender would suddenly shift to the male side and I would be swamped with dysphoria. But the hormonal confusion that I went through either masked that or overrode it completely. By the time my hormones stabilized and I felt more like myself, my gender was back to normal, feeling mostly neutral with a gentle fluctuation to either side. Still, it took some conscious work to re-learn how to use my dysphoria management strategies that I had developed before this weird female pregnancy experience. 

PREGNANCY (AGAIN)

Then I got pregnant again, after the IVF procedure. I was expecting a similar experience and had tried to think of strategies I could use to help with that ghostly feeling of losing contact with my male side for nine months. But as it turned out, my gender has stayed pretty consistently neutral. If anything, the only change is that it fluctuates less, if at all. 

This means that I have experienced dysphoria with this pregnancy. In the first trimester, before many people knew I was pregnant, it was mostly chest dysphoria as my breasts increased by multiple cup sizes. My chest was too sore to be able to wear a binder right from the beginning. I did use tape a couple times but even that was uncomfortable.

In the second trimester, the breast growth slowed down but my binder no longer fit. Once we announced the pregnancy I was slammed with social dysphoria as everyone started using more female language for me and asking about the gender of the baby. I continued to struggle with chest dysphoria until my belly started to grow. As my belly got bigger, my chest looked and felt smaller and smaller in comparison. In the third trimester, my belly was big enough that most regular t-shirts created a tenting effect that nearly completely hid my chest. I’m sure it looks funny to other people but it feels great to me. 

Throughout the pregnancy process I have been trying to consume as much information as I can about pregnancy, birth, and baby care though apps, websites, books, podcasts, and medical care providers. The majority of this information is female centric. The pregnant person is always referred to as mom or mom-to-be, is always assumed to be a woman, and dysphoria is never mentioned as one of the potential symptoms of being pregnant. 

We were lucky enough to find a midwife team in our area that is LGBT inclusive who we were upfront with about both my husband being trans and me being nonbinary from the start. This was hugely helpful for me. I don’t have to brace myself to go to every pregnancy related appointment like I had to during the fertility/trying to conceive process. If you are trans or nonbinary and trying to get pregnant, I highly recommend finding a trans inclusive care provider if you can. If none exist in your area or you don’t have a choice of who you go to, I recommend finding a trans inclusive doula to add to your support team who will advocate on your behalf throughout the process. You will have enough to deal with without having to do all the advocacy and education related to your gender identity on your own. 

At some point mid-pregnancy, I had an aha moment based on something someone posted on one of the facebook groups I’m in. They explained how they had reframed their pregnancy as a nonbinary experience in a nonbinary body because they identify as nonbinary. When it was put like that, it seemed so simple. Of course if I identify as nonbinary, my body is a nonbinary body, and anything it can do, including getting pregnant and growing a baby, is a nonbinary experience. This mantra has helped a lot on days when my social dysphoria is getting the better of me or when I am trying to consume information that is highly gendered. 

INCLUSIVE TERMINOLOGY MATTERS

I have been able to find some resources that are trans inclusive. The Birth Partner, 5th edition is the best one. I included links to trans doula practices that also provide inclusive resources in Related Posts and Resources at the end of the show notes. 

The prenatal classes we attended were advertised as being LGBT inclusive and did a good job of being LGB inclusive, referring to partners instead of husbands, but they didn’t have much awareness of the trans component. They didn’t introduce themselves with their pronouns, so naturally I didn’t either. They almost exclusively referred to the birthing person as a woman or mom using female language. And when they were talking about feeding the baby they only ever talked about breastfeeding and used that terminology.

Particularly during the class on feeding, I had so much dysphoria that I became claustrophobic and had to pace in order to be able to stay in the room to get the information I needed. One of the perks of being in a pandemic was that these classes were all run over Zoom so I was able to be off screen and still listen in. Otherwise I probably would have had to speak up or leave the class entirely. I also provided the instructors of this class feedback (a couple weeks later once my dysphoria had calmed down) which was well received. 

When I’m trying to absorb information that will likely be helpful in navigating pregnancy, birth, or postpartum and caring for the baby and the information is presented in a gendered way that triggers my dysphoria, it’s very hard to tell if I am dysphoric because I just happen to be feeling more male and have more dysphoria that day, if the language used in the resource is triggering dysphoria that otherwise wouldn’t be there, or if the situation I am learning about will be dysphoria inducing when I’m experiencing it and I should prepare for that. This is why inclusive language is so important. 

If I feel dysphoric when picturing myself in a situation as I read an inclusive resource, it seems much more likely that I might struggle with that experience when the time comes. Since that very uncomfortable prenatal class, I have re-read the section on chestfeeding in The Birth Partner and watched videos by trans doulas on chest and body feeding and the dysphoria I feel when picturing myself doing this has decreased significantly. After this episode airs I will write an update on my blog and let you know how it’s going in real life. 

After the experience with the prenatal class and comparing it to reading The Birth Partner, I wrote a blog post with a list of inclusive pregnancy, birthing, and feeding terminology. This includes using gestating or pregnant person instead of mom, birthing person instead of woman, and chest or body feeding in addition to breastfeeding.

NONBINARY PARENTING

Of course the pregnancy journey doesn’t just stop relating to gender after the baby is born. It turns into a parenting journey. As I am not quite yet a parent, I can only speak to what I have been wondering about and talking to others about in preparation for this next step. 

First of all, there’s what the baby will call me. There are lots of nonbinary parental terms that people use and lots of nonbinary parents that are comfortable with either mom or dad. I honestly don’t know where I will go with this yet. I feel ok with mom but less ok with mommy or momma. I’m considering the name Mur based on my initials M.R. Or there’s something different like Ren or Renny from paRENt, or Mapa which seems highly accurate to my experience but doesn’t have any particular emotional connection for me. I guess we’ll see what sticks once we test them out. 

Then there’s deciding whether to gender your child based on their assumed sex or whether to raise them as gender neutral until or unless they specify otherwise. We have decided to gender our child but raise them in a gender inclusive, gender expansive way. For me, fighting for our child to be recognized as nonbinary when it is likely that they will identify as cis is not worth the effort and would be extremely dysphoria inducing for myself. We will of course be open about our own identities with our child and ask them often about their identity and adjust our use of language as often as they wish. 

This brings up another point. If we are open about our identities with our child, that necessitates being open with anyone the child interacts with – family, medical systems, school systems, playgroups. My husband is fairly open about being trans so this won’t be a huge shift for him. But I have only just started coming out to co-workers and family so this will likely be a steep coming out curve for me. I guess that is a pretty solid way of shifting the ‘need’ factor up in the coming out equation I talked about in Episode 5. 

And lastly, I have heard from many nonbinary parents that the world of parenting is, if possible, even more forcibly gendered than the world of fertility and pregnancy. I’m sure that is something you learn to deal with as it happens. But it’s probably good to have low expectations in order to be prepared and maybe occasionally pleasantly surprised instead of constantly irritated and defensive. 

REACH OUT!

If you are struggling through the process of trying to conceive, currently pregnant, or a nonbinary parent and want to reach out, please email me at letstalkgenderpodcast@gmail.com. You are not alone. 


That’s it for Season 2 of Let’s Talk Gender.

The music for this podcast is by Jamie Price. You can find them at Must Be Tuesday or on iTunes. 

As this season is airing, I will hopefully be at home with my husband and newborn baby, learning what it means to be a parent. If you subscribe to my blog, you will continue to get regular updates on our parenting journey and how it relates to gender as well as any other gender related thoughts and experiences such as updates on coming out as nonbinary or any medical or legal transition steps I take in the future. 

I hope you have found this podcast helpful. Please reach out by commenting below or emailing me at letstalkgenderpodcast@gmail.com. I’d love to hear your reactions, thoughts, experiences, and suggestions for future seasons.

Bye for now. 


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Why Using AMAB and AFAB is Problematic

I have used AMAB (assigned male at birth) and AFAB (assigned female at birth) many times since I started this blog. But I recently heard an argument against using these terms that I think is worth sharing.

Though the terminology of ‘assigned at birth’ is better than ‘biological sex’ or simply ‘sex’, it doesn’t change the fact that these are still broad categories based on sex-at-birth characteristics. I often use these terms as a general reference to ‘people who grew up being read as female due to an estrogen-based puberty’ and ‘people who grew up being read as male due to a testosterone-based puberty’. But this still makes the assumption that someone’s sex assigned at birth will determine the type of puberty they have, the characteristics and functions of their body, how they are socialized, and how they are read by society. Boiling all of that down to someones’s sex assignment is limiting, unhelpfully broad, and extremely exclusionary to intersex people.

I am trying to replace my use of these terms with more specific references. Here are some examples.

  • People who were raised female/male
  • People who menstruate/don’t menstruate
  • People with uteruses and/or vaginas
  • People who produce sperm
  • People with penises
  • People who lactate
  • People with facial hair
  • People with dysphoria due to a rounded chest
  • People who are assumed to be female/male
  • People with a low voice (bass/baritone range)
  • People with a high voice (soprano range)
  • People who are trying to masculinize their appearance/presentation
  • People who are trying to feminize their appearance/presentation

In almost any instance where I would normally use the shorthand of AFAB or AMAB there is a better phrase that is more specific to the context that I am referring to and therefore the people who might share this experience. It may use more words to say it but it ends up being more inclusive, more specific, and much more easily understood by a wider range of people.

Using more descriptive phrases relates our gender to our experiences, not to our sex assignment at birth or the gender that society assigns to our body. You avoid the constant reminder that society got it wrong (and often continues to get it wrong). Many people who would be turned off by that reminder would have no problem engaging in discussion when they are referred to using one of the alternative phrases above.

These descriptive phrases are also more inclusive of nonbinary people who may not share all the same desires, types of dysphoria, and presentation preferences as binary trans folks. If referring to AMAB trans people with the assumption that they share the experience of attempting to feminize their appearance in various ways, this could be frustrating and exclusionary of intersex and nonbinary people.

So next time you go to use the acronym AMAB or AFAB, try replacing it with a more specific and descriptive phrase. I know I will. Since I started trying to do this, there haven’t been any instances where I felt like the acronyms worked better.


What is your experience with these acronyms? Do they rub you the wrong way or not bother you at all? Leave a comment below and share your thoughts!


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Inclusive Pregnancy and Birthing Terminology

NOT ALL PREGNANT PEOPLE ARE WOMEN

Not all pregnant people are women. Being pregnant as a person who does not identify as a cis woman can make my identity feel invisible. It often feels like all anyone sees about me is that I’m pregnant and therefore I must be a woman.

I know lots of cis women also feel like they lose their individuality while they are pregnant and especially once they are a parent. Some push back against it and some embrace it. I also know that pregnancy, birthing, and breastfeeding have been seen as traditional components of womanhood and there is a lot of push back against people who don’t identify as women claiming these experiences. There is also push back against people who identify as women not wanting to have these experiences and shame/stigma experienced by women who would like to have these experiences but are unable to for whatever reason.

I can’t fight against all these types of social marginalization, discrimination, and stigma in one post. I personally don’t see any of those judgments or identity based limitations as necessary, meaningful, or helpful. Everyone should be allowed to experience whatever aspects of childbearing, child caring, and child rearing they want and if they are unable to we should support them with community rather than shaming them. Regardless, I wanted to share my own personal experiences with this and some recommendations that might help others in the future.

PERSONAL EXPERIENCE

Being pregnant and preparing for a baby requires consuming a huge amount of information and resources, most of which is presented as female-centric. I constantly have to filter out the language in order to apply this information to myself which is exhausting.

It is often hard to tell why I am uncomfortable with the information I’m consuming. Is it because it is all new, different, and overwhelming as anyone preparing for their first child can attest? Is it because picturing myself in that scenario triggers dysphoria which may mean I will need/want to avoid that situation or have a dysphoria management strategy in place? Or is it because the information is presented using language that is triggering dysphoria as I read it?

This makes it extra difficult to know what aspects of birthing and baby care will be more or less difficult for me gender-wise and how to prepare without stressing myself out about things that will be completely fine in the moment.

In order to sort through these reactions, I have joined trans/nonbinary support groups so I can see if I am equally as uncomfortable, anxious, or dyphoric when discussing the same topics with people who share my experiences and use affirming language. I also talk to my therapist and will have appointments scheduled for postpartum as well (highly recommend this for anyone able to access this service). Lastly, I have found The Birth Partner by Penny Simkin to be an invaluable source of balanced information presented almost entirely using gender neutral language.

RECOMMENDATIONS AND RESOURCES

Below is a table of some of the terminology that I have come across and some gender neutral or inclusive alternatives. I hope this helps steer resources and practitioners in a more trans inclusive direction.

Traditional LanguageTrans Inclusive Language
Pregnant women/womanPregnant people/person
Gestating people/person
Mother, mom, mommyParent
Gestational parent
[Preferred parenting label]
Woman in labourPerson in labour
Labouring person
Birthing person
Father, dad, daddyParent, partner, co-parent
Support person
Non-gestational parent
[Preferred parenting label]
Nursing Lactating
Feeding
Bodyfeeding
BreastfeedingChestfeeding
Breast/chestfeeding
Bodyfeeding
Breast milkHuman milk
Expressed milk

Please Note: I paired ‘Gestational parent’ with ‘Mother’ because traditionally, anyone gestating is labeled ‘Mother’ and resources that refer to the ‘Mother’ are often for gestating people in general. Some gestating people are men and will use the term ‘Father’ or other typically male parental term. Similarly, not all ‘Fathers’ are ‘Non-gestational parents’ – they might be the one who gestated the child! But traditional resources referring to the ‘Father’ often mean ‘Non-gestating parent’ or even just ‘Support person’.

The goal is to say what you mean. Do you mean ‘pregnant women’ specifically ie are you referring to a difference of experience between pregnant women and pregnant people of other gender identities? Or do you really mean ‘pregnant people’? Being inclusive isn’t difficult or mysterious. But it does require awareness of the breadth of identities and experiences and self awareness to say what you actually mean.

In addition to using trans-inclusive language, a basic understanding of what dysphoria is and how trans people who are pregnant, birthing, or postpartum may experience dysphoria is necessary for providing trans-inclusive care. Every trans person experiences dysphoria differently and will manage it differently. Knowing how to have those conversations with the gestating trans person in your life will make you a much better support person. As a support person, you are not responsible for identifying or managing their dysphoria for them. Simply knowing how to ask about it, being familiar with the language and experiences, will give them space to discuss it with someone who is showing care and support. Trust me, it makes a big difference.

If you are a birth worker (medically trained or not), here are some other resources that will help point you in the right direction:

  • Inclusive lactation style guide from International Lactation Consultant Association and why it matters
  • Gender Inclusive Language examples from Trans Care BC
  • Moss Froom: Trans & Queer Centered Doula & Childbirth Educator
  • Jenna Brown: Love Over Fear Wellness and Birth LLC
  • The Birth Partner, 5th Ed by Penny Simkin (also very good resource for gestating and birthing people and their supporters)

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Second Trimester Part 2

GENDER

Not much has changed gender-wise since my last pregnancy update (see Second Trimester Part 1). Being more visibly pregnant leads to more female language and more dysphoria. I have been able to manage by finding clothes that are generally affirming (larger sports bras rather than maternity bras and larger and longer ‘men’s’ t-shirts rather than maternity tops) though I have had to switch to maternity pants with the fake button, tiny pockets, but comfortable belly band.

Most of the conversations I’m having about gender are related to the baby’s gender (though most people mean sex – see Gender vs Sex). I have been trying to correct people’s use of the terms gender and sex and trying to explain to people why it’s important that the baby’s sex doesn’t matter and encouraging them to challenge their own conditioning about automatically asking about it. Most of the time I don’t have the energy for these conversations or the context isn’t conducive to this kind of conversation ie a stranger asking about the baby’s ‘gender’ in passing (yes, this happens frequently). The longer conversations I have had with friends and co-workers, when my response is received well, often segue into a conversation about trans identities, identity vs presentation, and sometimes even my own identity as nonbinary. So, while the question ‘What are you having?’ is very frustrating and mildly triggering, it has helped me come out to more people in a round-about way.

PREGNANCY SYMPTOMS

I am still struggling with pain in my hips, pelvis, back, ribs, and occasional other joints. The worsening of this pain has slowed down with the sedentary duties at work and use of a walker or cane to get around. Other symptoms (heartburn, overheating, vivid dreams) are generally easy to manage.

The coolest thing is the baby movement. Hiccups are the cutest – a rhythmic little thump in one spot that someone else can feel from the outside. The kicks, elbows, knees, and punches range from interesting to surprising to painful. The squirming can be weird and nauseating but is also pretty cool how much it changes the shape of my belly and how visible it is from the outside. All these sensations remind me that I have a little human growing inside me. It is pretty amazing what my body can do.

THE MENTAL GAME

As I enter the third trimester of pregnancy, I have been doing a lot of thinking ahead to, and learning about labour, birth, and the postpartum experience. We have been taking prenatal classes (over Zoom of course) and I have been reading lots of books. The best one that I’ve found by far is called The Birth Partner by Penny Simkin. It’s on it’s fifth edition and is written using predominantly gender neutral language – birthing person/labouring person, partner/support person, breast/chest feeding. While it’s aimed at the support person rather than the birthing person, I have found it very straightforwardly informative and affirming.

Learning about and preparing for the big scary experiences and changes ahead is my way of making them feel more manageable and less scary. I’m not generally an anxious person so I’m unlikely to make myself more scared by learning more. However, thinking about the future definitely takes my focus away from experiencing the moment, experiencing pregnancy to the fullest as it happens. So I’m trying to find a balance between the two by enjoying as many aspects of pregnancy as I can while managing the rest and preparing for the future.


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