Currently Under Construction: The First Trimester Diaries

I am ten weeks pregnant, and to be honest, I feel very indifferent. Since the moment I found out, I've been in this strange state of shock, almost like my entire world has tilted, and I haven't quite found my footing. I know I've said over and over that I want to be a mom, that I want a family, but I don't think I ever actually pictured what that would look like. What kind of mom do I want to be? What does motherhood even look like for someone like me?

And yes, we were actively trying to have kids, but it happened so fast. I went from moving across the country twice a year to buying a house and getting pregnant, all within what feels like five minutes. Well, to be fair, it's not like I've ever been much of a planner. I go with the flow. Opportunities open, and I walk through them. I cut my jeans without thinking twice. I drill holes into walls without measuring. I make decisions and figure out the details later. So, of course, I'm suddenly pregnant, sitting here thinking, Wait. What's the plan here? Who's raising this child? WAIT. WE ARE?!

This realization, mixed with feeling like the complete opposite of who I normally am, has really spun me out. I stay in every night, lie around or sleep on and off throughout the day, and watch my to-do list grow while feeling like I'm falling further and further behind. My light, spontaneous, energetic self feels completely suffocated, and that's what I'm struggling with the most. I'm happy I got pregnant so quickly and easily. I'm excited to have a child. I really am. But I don't think I expected to lose my sense of self so quickly, or so early.

This version of me is someone I've spent my entire life actively trying not to become. I lie around and consume. I scroll. I sleep. I think about all the things I should be doing, and then I do none of them. I've started four new art projects, all of them sitting halfway finished. There are piles of house projects practically staring at me, begging to be completed. And I genuinely can't remember the last time I had fun or felt that familiar spark of joy. It's like I'm living my worst nightmare during a time when I'm supposed to be experiencing one of life's greatest joys. And that contradiction is exhausting.

I keep reading the same advice everywhere: You have to give yourself grace. But what does that actually mean? Grace for months and months? Grace while the days keep passing me by? Grace while I lie here feeling depressed and anxious, watching the version of myself I recognize slowly disappear? How much grace am I supposed to give myself before I start wondering where I've gone?

I don't think it helps that I've been having nightmares. Horrible, vivid dreams about things going wrong. This recurring feeling that none of this is real, that somehow everything I've built could disappear. That my husband will leave me, and I'll be doing all of this alone. I've been left before, and apparently, that wound isn't as healed as I thought it was. It's strange how something so exciting can bring old fears right back to the surface. That familiar voice starts whispering, What if it happens again? What if you end up doing this alone? And suddenly, I'm not just thinking about becoming a mother. I'm thinking about abandonment, security, love, and whether the life I'm building is something I can actually trust to stay.

I'm just so tired. Physically tired. Emotionally exhausted. Tired of trying to visualize what this is supposed to look like, what it's supposed to feel like, and how I'm supposed to react. There's this looming expectation that I should already know how to do this. That I should be glowing, nesting, planning, and overflowing with excitement. Instead, I'm lying on the couch wondering what happened to the person I was nine weeks ago. Somehow, I already feel like I'm doing it wrong, and it's barely even started.

But maybe that's where I need to change my perspective. Maybe instead of fighting this exhaustion, I need to lean into it. To listen to what my body is asking of me rather than the never-ending list of things running through my mind. To recognize that rest isn't the same as doing nothing. Because the reality is, I'm doing something pretty extraordinary right now. I'm growing a human being.

And I think that gets lost somewhere between the nausea, the hormones, the exhaustion, and the emotional roller coaster of the first trimester. It's easy to focus on everything I can't do and forget about everything my body is doing. There is something incredibly challenging, vulnerable, and powerful about carrying a child. And while women have been doing this forever, that doesn't make it any less remarkable or any less difficult. I think sometimes we become so focused on the symptoms of pregnancy that we forget the magnitude of what's actually happening inside our bodies. Every day, whether I'm checking things off my to-do list or lying on the couch, my body is working in ways I can't even begin to comprehend.

Maybe I don't need to measure these days by how much I accomplish, how many projects I finish, or how closely I resemble the person I was before pregnancy. Maybe, for once in my life, I need to stop trying to outrun the stillness. To let myself slow down without feeling like I'm falling behind. To trust that this version of me isn't replacing the person I've always been, but becoming part of her.

And maybe that's the first lesson motherhood is teaching me: that not every season of life is about doing more. Some are about making room for something new.