Disclaimer:
I’m aware that this situation can not compare to others - probably not even close. I live in a first world country. I have a loving, kind and supportive husband. I am able to speak to my family on a daily basis. I’m in good health and my baby is too. But everyone has their story and their troubles and this is mine.
You can have it all, but not at the same time.
What I didn’t realise about pregnancy is that: hormones are real and loneliness is too.
Prior to falling pregnant, my social calendar was full. I was out and about. Exploring my home-from-home, meeting friends and building the family connection that I so desperately missed from home. I have been away from my homeland for almost 10 years, so this is the survival tactic I know. But since I have become pregnant, the dinner parties and get-togethers have turned into few-and-far-between lunches and my Friday and Saturday evenings have become TV and series binges. It’s a lonely place to be. (If this is the least of my worries then I have it good and I know that it could always be worse but this is my reality)
I feel so guilty. I seem ungrateful but I am the furthest from it. My husband and I have had 7 marvellous years together. We have danced the night away, watched many sunrises together, travelled the world and shared experiences and many firsts together. We decided that, in 2018, we would try to start a family and during the first cycle, we were pregnant. We were shocked, ecstatic and overwhelmed but we were ready to welcome a little extension of both of us into our lives.
The Tuesday I found out - at 4 weeks pregnant - I had plans to go see a performer in downtown Tokyo with one of my best friends. It never even crossed my mind that I would want a drink to celebrate. My world and priorities changed the moment that second test produced a positive line. I ordered a non-alcoholic beer - to ease into this new lifestyle - and I hated it. What was the point of pseudo-drinking? I suppose I just wanted to feel like I was a similar version of my ‘prior self’.
Perhaps because of this, the invitations to join groups of friends has dwindled. I suppose it’s not fun to have one person in a group not drinking and indulging in all the delicacies that Japan has to offer. It makes settling the bill more difficult. Maybe it makes them feel uncomfortable because they are worried how I feel being around smokers, drinkers, party-goers. I feel selfish for feeling this way but the adjustment that was required, I was not prepared for.
It’s nearing the end of summer. People are starting to trickle back into Tokyo and I’m seeing them gathering on social media, catching up and enjoying the last few days before work begins. I’m watching this all, from my couch and trying not be consumed by envy. I don’t have the luxury of having my husband with me as he doesn’t have a normal 8-5 job. He’s currently away for 5 nights and today after reaching this first low, I called him. He was just finishing up his shoot and his words of love and comfort were, “Maybe it’s time to try something new and then you can meet new people.” I appreciated the sentiment but I told him that learning to bake bread - one of my summer goals - and learning new things wouldn’t fill the void of friends and life moving on without me.
I feel so selfish for feeling this way, perhaps it’s a fleeting moment fueled by inconsistent hormones. Maybe it’s the countdown calendar that I have on my phone...9 weeks to go. Or could it be the area upstairs for baby that is not yet complete? Perhaps it’s being 14000kms away from my family - during this time that we should be sharing. Whatever factors there are, I just don’t want to be forgotten or left behind.
The best thing I could do to clear my mind was to put on my running shoes and walk. Science says that after 20 minutes of exercise, endorphins are released throughout your body and this is what my baby deserved. He deserved to feel love, happiness and contentment. He didn’t deserve to be exposed to any negativity. Towards the end of my walk, the sun was setting and the sky produced the most incredible kaleidoscope of pinks and light blues. I felt like this was the universe speaking to me. Telling me everything would be ok.
As I sit on the couch, with Netflix on, and I feel my gorgeous little boy kick, I rub my stomach and understand that one chapter has closed and another has already started.
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