I’m going to have a baby! Someday! I always knew I wanted to be a mom, but between medical complications, concerns about population growth, working in the foster care system, and a whole lot of trauma, I was intent on adopting for years. Then last year I went to my partner’s concert (he’s a professional musician), and while watching him play the marimba I had a very clear thought: I must have this man’s baby inside me. This was alarming because 1. I had only known this man for about 3.5 months, 2. I was convinced I would not, and probably could not, have kids, and 3. Wouldn’t that destroy my perfect vagina?
I am a feminist, and I study feminist philosophy and methodology, but I have some serious flaws in my thinking. For example, I’m pretty sure that the idea of a vagina snapping back to pre-baby size after birth is a myth to keep women having babies. You’re telling me that my vagina will rip straight through to my asshole and then heal itself like that never even happened? I do not believe it.
This is important to me not just because that process sounds horrific, but because a significant amount of my self-worth is in my sexuality. I could be described as competitive about my sexuality. Years of trauma and mental illness taught me that sex was all I was good for, so I had better be the best at it.
The biggest threat to my (admittedly misplaced) self-worth is childbirth — my body will change, my vagina will change, and I just won’t be me anymore. When I try to discuss my fear with other people who can have children, I feel like my concerns are often dismissed with vague claims like, “oh it goes back” and “people have sex again after having babies.” I know people *do* have sex after having kids; I’ve seen the Duggars, but I’m not convinced sex with her after 18 kids doesn’t feel like throwing a hotdog down a hallway, and no one else seems to be worried about that. If people are worried about their vaginas after childbirth, they certainly aren’t talking about it.
It turns out there are a lot of elements of pregnancy, childbirth and motherhood that people aren’t talking about. I don’t know many people who are learning about these things before becoming pregnant. In my opinion, that’s way too late.
I’m pro-choice, pro-abortion for any reason, but I know that personally, if I have a wanted pregnancy and then learn about some horrific aspect of childbirth 4 months into the pregnancy and decide I can’t go through with it, it would crush me. I also know that it is super unlikely that I would learn something so awful that I couldn’t go through with childbirth even though millions of people have done it before me. But I also also know that most people aren’t learning about childbirth until it is too late to not go through with it (for medical, legal or emotional reasons). My vagina and sense of self have been through enough; I just want to know what I’m getting myself into before getting into it.
I’ve decided to do all my motherhood research now, at 23 and very dedicated to taking my birth control. I’ll be reading books, listening to podcasts, doing some soul-searching and, most importantly, going to pelvic floor therapy. I have probably needed pelvic floor therapy (physical therapy for your vagina, basically) since I was 14 due to the anatomical issues before I experienced trauma, but no doctor introduced me to the idea until I was about 20, and at that point I was terrified. Pelvic floor therapy is now (it wasn’t always) a recommended treatment for a lot of postpartum issues, trauma injuries and more. I know that I can learn valuable information about my own body and what to expect from pregnancy and childbirth, but I’m just so fucking scared.
To inspire me to stick with it, I’m going to journal my fears, thoughts and findings here. I feel that a commitment to writing my experiences and reviews of resources will encourage a sense of greater responsibility. So that’s what I’m doing.
I’ve decided to call myself “pre-pregnant.” Naturally when you buy three books on pregnancy, try to sign up for a birthing class and ask all your friends very personal questions about childbirth, people ask “how far along” you are. I’ll be answering, “oh, I’m pre-pregnant. So like, not far at all” and then enjoying their confused looks.
