Growing and Growing.....

Last night I found an article I wrote for a magazine 2 years ago. I was 7 months pregnant with our daughter, working, and worrying about the arrival of a new little baby. The article was an exercise in catharsis. I used the short essay to vent about my difficult pregnancy and to make sense of what was happening in my body.



It was interesting to read the words now, in this moment, because, you see, at 17 weeks pregnant I still feel nauseous day and night. Though much better than my last pregnancy, I’m completely shattered all the time, food provides little of its previous pleasure though, curiously, I seem to be gaining weight by the hour….Hmmm? Pregnancy, for me, is not so much about glowing and blossoming as it is about challenge and obstacle. Learning to slow down, to let go and to accept that pregnancy, like parenting, is hard work.



So I read this article that I wrote so many months ago, where I spewed the infinite wisdom of someone who has never been a parent. I talked about how my pregnancy was preparing me to be a more patient, empathetic and accepting mother….and you know what? The naïve, unknowing me was right. My changing, challenging body is a constant reminder that I, quite literally, do have the capacity to change. I am able to concede control, to adapt, and to raise this new little being inside of me, regardless of what he/she might need.

Right before Winnie was born, Jamie’s aunt J told me I had nothing to worry about. She said “babies don’t move when they’re born! They don’t walk or talk. They grow slowly, giving you time to grow with them”. It reminded me of a fabulous quote from a Barbara Coloroso book:

“Who of us is mature enough for offspring before the offspring themselves arrive? The value of marriage (partnership) is not that adults produce children but that children produce adults” – Peter De Vries

So I’m hoping that the struggle of this pregnancy is getting, both Jamie and I, little more ready for another baby. I’m no longer silly enough to think I know what kind of mother I’m going to be because, well, it is an ever evolving process, but I do hope I’m learning and becoming more mature. I hope I’m turning in to an adult!



The Article:
My husband and I have always wanted children. We were just waiting for the “right time”. We had both completed two post-graduate degrees and were starting our careers much later than most of our friends. We were newly married, renovating our first home and up to our ears in student debt. Starting our family, in the midst of chaos seemed irresponsible. What would we, with little stability and even less free time, have to offer?

Notwithstanding hours of debate, we continued to postpone our dream of having a family. Back and forth we went, month after month, both, secretly hoping that in the end the decision would be made for us. That somehow, despite our best efforts, our first born would decide enough was enough and take up residence in the comfort of my womb. All we wanted was a sign. A teeny, tiny miracle that would prove we were ready for parenthood.

7 months ago it happened. After days of nausea, I finally picked up a test and took it. Much to my surprise, I passed! That is to say, our miracle had arrived. I admit I am fully aware that our miracle is perhaps less of a miracle and more the product of subconscious desire, but who am I to argue? It was our time and we were thrilled.

Being a naturopathic doctor, I was healthy and in-touch with my body. I just assumed I would have a perfectly healthy pregnancy. My belly would grow, my skin would glow and my hair would shine. Having long envied the swelling bellies of pregnant women, I eagerly anticipated the weight of my very own “bump”.

After spending 18 weeks over a toilet, unable to convince any food to stay down and dropping weight steadily, I gave up my dream of the perfect pregnancy. My body was not prepared to cooperate. My body, in fact, seemed to have developed a mind of its own. Unpredictable and erratic, my new form was ready to prove how inept I was, how little I knew, and how hard it would be to raise a child. My body revolted against my busy schedule, healthy diet and regular exercise. I continued to lose weight until, practically overnight, my belly popped and I no longer fit into any of my clothes. My hormones slowly began to settle but the nausea and vomiting continued to return at the most inopportune times.

This pregnancy, though wonderful and welcomed, was slowly stripping me of my former identity. What was I doing wrong?

The simple answer is: nothing. I was doing nothing wrong. Pregnancy is hard work! It’s unpredictable and uncontrollable and THAT is what makes it such a worthwhile experience!

What took me over 5 months to realize was that in pregnancy I would need to grow. Physically, yes, I loved my blossoming belly, but I was unprepared for the emotional and spiritual growth that needed to take place. Ill-equipped, I was missing out on the true miracle of pregnancy.

Pregnancy is a time to nurture your body: meditate, do yoga, take long walks, and get acquainted with the new, and ever-changing, you. As our bodies morph and hormones fluctuate, we have the rare opportunity to shape-shift internally as well. When we have the support we need and the time for reflection, our sense of self is given the chance to mature and solidify. We can learn to slow down, to accept (not expect!), to lose control and to appreciate the infinite capability of the human body. Pushed to our most extreme limits it is surprising to discover that we are limitless. As our bellies swell so too does our capacity to love, understand and give.

Though my husband and I are still working hard at our new careers and there are days when our resources feel limited, I know that we will always be able to provide for our baby. My changing body has taught me to trust my own adaptability and to welcome life’s variations without fear or restraint.



In pregnancy and childbirth we are transformed. In motherhood, I believe, our children become a reflection of that transformation, bit by bit, altering all of humanity.

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