Pregnancy: A Reminder to Myself

I used to be a person who offered a polite smile and a "congratulations" to pregnant women without truly understanding the world they were living in.

Now, I see how little I actually knew.

Note: This is based solely on my personal experience. Every journey is unique.

Before I became pregnant, I found it hard to truly relate. I was happy for pregnant women, of course, but I was looking at it from the outside. Having walked that path myself, I realize how much I still had to learn about what pregnancy really feels like.

My pregnancy wasn’t a “nine-month glow.” It was a profound lesson in humbleness, a challenge to my identity, and a total redesign of my daily life.

Here is what I’ve learned — and what I hope to remember the next time I meet someone who’s expecting.

The “Enjoy It” Trap

If there is one phrase I struggled with, it was being told to “enjoy it.”

I felt like a fraud.

Before pregnancy, I felt fit in my body and mind; now, I was tired, overwhelmed, and constantly cold. Finding a comfortable position felt like a full-time job. What exactly was I supposed to be enjoying?

Don’t get me wrong — it was the most magical experience of my life. Growing a human felt like a science-fiction movie; seeing a tiny person move inside my own body was spooky and unbelievable. I was deeply grateful. But “grateful” and “enjoying every minute” are not the same thing.

My learning: I often used “enjoy it” as a conversational placeholder because I was uncomfortable with the raw reality of the process. By demanding “enjoyment,” we accidentally silence the struggle. I now avoid telling women what they should feel. Instead of “Enjoy it,” I ask: “How are you feeling today?”

Advice as Noise

I noticed that many people were very keen to share their own stories or give unsolicited advice.

It reminded me of Brené Brown’s explanation of empathy vs. sympathy.

Empathy is climbing down into the hole with someone and saying, “I know what it’s like down here, and you’re not alone.”

Sympathy is looking from the top and trying to “silver-lining” the situation with “at least you have X…”

Hearing “My wife went through exactly the same thing 10 years ago” didn’t always help. Sometimes I wanted to hear stories, but many times I just needed a listening ear without a fix.

My learning: Ask first. “Do you want to hear about my experience, or do you just need someone to listen right now?”

The Fading “Organized Me”

I have always been a well-organized, fast-moving person. Control was an essential part of my identity — not just how I worked, but how I moved through the world.

During pregnancy, I felt that part of me fading. I became slower, in body and mind. I forgot things. I struggled to follow explanations. It felt like losing my sense of self.

My learning: I started using Evernote for everything — lists for my gynecologist, to-dos, medical notes. Accepting “brain fog” meant building new systems to replace the ones that were failing.

The Rusher Identity

The same identity showed up physically, too. I used to be the “rusher” catching the train, overtaking everyone. Now I was the one being pushed aside by aggressive bike riders. I finally understood the fear of older people waiting at a crossing, worried they won’t make it before the light changes.

Suddenly, that fear was mine.

My learning: I am learning that slowing down isn’t a loss of productivity — it’s an expansion of awareness. It also makes me notice other people and their struggles I used to overlook.

Pregnancy in the Workspace

Pregnancy isn’t an illness, but it is a physical reality that doesn’t stop during meetings. In a corporate context, we often treat it as a “personal matter” to be ignored for the sake of professionalism. I appreciated the colleagues who didn’t ignore it. Just two sentences — “How are you feeling? Let me know if you need to swap that hard chair for a couch” — made me feel seen.

The reality of working while pregnant included:

• The Internal Kicker: It’s hard to stay professional in a presentation when someone is literally knocking on your ribs from the inside.

  
  

• The Breath: When the baby presses on your lungs, you simply cannot speak for long periods without a break.

  
  

• The Environment: Loud conferences weren’t just stressful for me; the baby would react and kick constantly in response to the noise.

  
  

My learning: Acknowledging physical reality in a work setting doesn’t make me “less professional”; it makes the environment more human. It’s a small adjustment — but it meant I could be fully present, instead of performing through discomfort.

The Responsibility of Triggers

I was surprised by how much my pregnancy triggered others. A relative told me about a dream about me and my baby — and then asked, in a worried tone, “Are you feeling okay?”

A stranger in a shared taxi, unprompted, commented that my belly looked like I was expecting a boy. When I answered that it was a girl, she replied, “Well, we’ll see.”

I understood they meant something by commenting on my pregnancy, but I left both conversations carrying weight that wasn’t mine.

My learning: People often project their own unresolved fears or joys onto the person carrying the baby. I’ve learned my responsibility is to my own health. Other people’s fears deserve compassion — but they aren’t mine to carry.

Every pregnancy is a unique universe. I wasn’t enjoying mine every minute, and that is okay.

I was simply growing a life. That was already enough.

Disclaimer: This article reflects my personal experience and should not be taken as medical advice.

If you’re curious about the day-to-day mechanics of that same period — sleep, food, movement, the logistics — I wrote about that separately in Pregnancy: A Study in Adaptation.

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