The secret life of an unplanned pregnancy
Remain still and silent.
These are the words my dear friend Selma sent me exactly a year ago. I hadn’t known Selma very long at that point. But for some reason I had felt compelled to share a big secret with her and only her.
I was pregnant.
I was pregnant and it was unplanned. I was in the middle of studying a Masters. I was bootstrapping a startup alongside my day-job as a freelance copywriter. I wasn’t even living with my partner. And my dad was gonna absolutely flip his lid at a baby out of wedlock. Dude, I was in NO position to bring a child into this world!
As it happened, Selma was the one who called me that day, randomly, about a passion project she wanted me to be involved in. It was as if she had spidey-sensed my heartache and confusion and picked up the phone to me. I was gobsmacked, because I had been thinking to call her all morning, and here was her name, flashing up on my phonescreen. Little did she know I’d be dropping that bombshell on her!
In the days that followed, I was in a spin of confusion — not helped by the cocktail of hormones kicking the crap out of my emotional stability. My partner and I had always talked about having kids, but I had always imagined we’d be more…prepared for it, you know? The grand narrative we’re fed from a young age is this: one must be established in their career, and have been with their partner for several years, then married, and/or at least living together, and/or own the property they live in, and maybe even have a dog before considering having a baby.
That’s partly why I want to write this. Because the grand narrative wasn’t my narrative, and I’m sure there are others out there who can say the same.
My narrative is that I booked an appointment for a termination. Why? Because I was self-employed and wouldn’t have the safety net of maternity pay. Because surely I had to finish my Masters first. Because I wasn’t living with my partner, let alone married to him. Because I knew my dad would practically disown me for bringing this unspeakable shame of a baby out of wedlock onto his family.
Because, because, because…
Every day, we have so many different voices telling us what we should do with our bodies and lives. SO many. They come at you from a million angles, and make you believe you’re a failure or a weirdo or shameful if you don’t match that mould. I had spent the last few years working on myself, healing, practising self-compassion, mindfulness, that I thought I was strong enough to break the mould. But faced with this unexpected, massive, potentially life-changing decision, all of that work I had put in? It shrank into the background.
Selma’s words of advice were so crucial to me at that confusing, heartbreaking time. Unlike all these external ‘becauses’, Selma did not judge in any way. Instead she encouraged me to look inwards and to cut out all the noise, even my own noise, and to just remain still and silent. Still and silent. Still and silent.
It was this kindness, and the kindness I was shown in the coming months by incredible, supportive humans, that helped me through the early days of pregnancy. Those early months were really tough. My dad refused to speak to me, and my life was about to be turned upside down, with a quick house-move, an even quicker wedding, and a shit-ton of healing.
I want to tell this story, because that fairy tale trajectory is, for so many of us, the opposite of reality, and yet that fairy tale is what stops many women from telling their versions.
I want to tell this story because I might’ve made it look like I breezed through the whole thing, or like that’s how I planned it. I didn’t plan it mate. It just happened to me. I was overwhelmed a lot of the time, and I had to look really deep within myself to find the strength to not only get through it, but to own it. I just know I couldn’t have done it, especially those early weeks, without the kindness of guardian angels like Selma, and Kim and my Masi and Ana and Jude and James and Shahnaz and Selina and Leyya and my siblings and my mum, who was caught between me and my dad, and my partner’s mother, who is now my mother-in-law, and of course my partner, who is now my husband and became the father of our beautiful son four months ago.
As I emerge from my lovely cocoon of new-mum-hood, I intend to write more on pregnancy, motherhood, relationships (not just romantic ones), identity, entrepreneurship and the ways all those things intersect. I thought this would be a nice place to start.
