Two and a half years ago, I was pregnant for the first time in my life. I was enthusiastic, excited and exhilarated at the prospect of having my own baby.
The pregnancy went well for the most part save for the recurring chronic back pain which I’d been living with for the past twenty years due to my scoliosis.
Seven months into the pregnancy though, I noticed that I simply couldn’t walk as I normally did. My body was undergoing such changes that normal movements began to feel strained and challenging. I’d lose my breath quite easily and I’d be too tired to stay awake for more than nine hours in a row. Each day after work, I needed a nap before dinner time.
My pelvis was loosening towards the end of my pregnancy such that setting my feet apart more than a meter would be painful. It also meant walking quickly would be painful. I would blame myself several times during the course of my pregnancy for not having taken care of myself well enough, so that I would have had better physical condition and strength. Nevertheless, I carried on and tried my best to regularly do the stretches and exercises recommended for pregnant women, feeling every joint, muscle and sinew complain. The only exercise that was relatively painless was swimming, so I swam once every three weeks, all the way into the last month.
At my mid-thirties, I never imagined being almost incapacitated to do anything. At home and at work, I’d have to ask people to help me reach things and carry things since I simply couldn’t perform the task. Even walking across the pedestrian lane was a challenge, in the last three months of my pregnancy, I simply had to accept that I could only walk to half of the road and wait for the light to turn green again before crossing the rest of the way.
I remembered that at some point in my young adult life, I was in such good physical condition that I could easily take a daily swim of 1.5 km without feeling like I’d drown, I could bicycle with 20 kilos of food in different baskets hanging on the bike and in a big backpack, right in the middle of winter and it would be just another day as a college student. I’d gotten so used to the strength in my body that I began to forget to exercise as I got older. When I started working, I was so exhausted that I didn’t bicycle anymore but instead took the bus.
Being pregnant showed me the limits of my body; it also gave me a glimpse into what it might be like getting old and needing help all the time. It took a good eight months after my son was born before I started to feel strong again. It was a humbling experience and I try my best to be grateful for the strength and health I possess each and every day.
Thinking out loud 