Recently I decided that pregnancy is for me, very much like a trip by plane. Years ago, I had a string of very bad experiences during flights that led to me developing high anxiety every time a trip approached. I still went through the process anyway because I knew I had to for my desired result, but it was hard on me emotionally and physically.
I would be tense with trepidation as I boarded and would sit with baited breath as we taxied. Though the power of take-off for me was always an exhilarating experience filled with the excitement of my trip, I was also aware that take-off is considered one of the riskier moments of air travel. So I'd grip the armrests and try my best to hide the conflicted swirlings of my emotions.
Then that blessed moment of peace would come when the captain would announce that we'd reached our cruising altitude and could move about the cabin. Being someone who researches the heck out of things that scare or concern me, I knew this was a relatively "safe" time. I could breathe easier, do some crosswords if it didn't aggravate my motion sickness, and get up for that anxiety pee that had been poking my bladder in earnest. On my better days, I could even rest my head against the wall for a relaxing snooze. All I had to worry about were possible turbulence that may not even come, and the ways in which I was going to enjoy our upcoming vacation. I often wouldn't even think about the landing. I prefer to take each moment as it comes to deal with it.
Just as I'd completely relaxed though, I would feel those changes in altitude. Following that was the announcement that we had begun our descent into "X" airport. That always thrilled me because it meant we were so close to a new experience, and travel is one of my favorite things in the world. At the same time though, we'd have to land to get there - yet another of the "riskier" moments, and one that always scared me because I couldn't feel those strong engines lifting us up like I could during take-off. It feels to me much like a graceful fall, which I suppose it is.
So down we'd go. Again, I'd be gripping the armrests. Except this time I would stare at the ground and think about our chances of survival after a possible crash with each descent. In my head I'd chant, "almost there, almost there," before touch down allowed me to breathe out in a woosh of relief and pure happiness at our arrival.
With Hub's love and help and with a lot more positive flight experiences under my belt, I eventually began to relax enough to enjoy flight again. (Because despite all this, I truly do love planes and enjoy the amazing experience of flight. Having an Air Force pilot for a Grandfather didn't hurt.) I hope for pregnancy to be the same. The experience of getting to this point was filled with a lot of trials and pain while the beginning of pregnancy was amazing, terrifying, exciting and horrible. I finally developed a kind of peace during the second trimester and began enjoying the baby in my womb without so much fear. I thought perhaps I had conquered the nerves. But now I'm at the end. I'm at that point again where we start to worry about declining amniotic fluid, reduced fetal movement and the breakdown of the placenta. Then of course there's always the chance of need for induction, c-section or other intervention. I'm finding this stage almost as scary as the beginning. The only thing that makes it better is the fact that I can feel the little stinker in there and touch his actual body parts with love. But when he doesn't move as he usually does? Well, then I panic just a little. And just the thought of anything jeopardizing this little one makes the thought of dealing with a plane crash and my mortality an almost easy thing to bear in comparison. I never understood that. I never could have imagined that... until now. Almost there... almost there.