I was sold a lie…

For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be a mom. As a little girl, I had this infatuation with babies and motherhood—I carried my dolls everywhere and treated them as if they were living members of our family. I had strollers, baby carriers, and while most kids my age were watching Barney or Franklin, my favorite show was TLC’s A Baby Story.

Any time there was a chance for imaginative play with friends, I was always the mom. As soon as I was old enough to be a “mother’s helper,” I started working with children which eventually led me to a career in education.

So, of course, when my husband and I got married, we were eager to start a family. I had spent my whole life being sold this dream: pregnancy is easy, uncomplicated, and goes exactly as planned. You carry a healthy baby, have a vaginal delivery, and everyone comes home happy and healthy...

HA! How naïve was I?!

Seriously though, how blissfully unaware was I? Part of me blames myself. I should have known better. But part of me also blames society. High-risk pregnancies, birth trauma, complications, the NICU—it’s all so taboo. And for what? So women like me are blindsided? So we can “protect” each other from the simple truth that sometimes…things go off-track? Not that they will, but that they can.

Truthfully, I think we’re doing each other a disservice.

Learning the hard way that pregnancy isn’t always easy, uncomplicated, or predictable was a tough pill to swallow. After everything I went through (which I’ll get into eventually), I didn’t feel like anyone did me a favor by keeping me in the dark.

I was angry. I felt unprepared. And more than anything, I felt alone.

Why didn’t anyone warn me that high-risk pregnancy is all-consuming? That I would have 27 prenatal appointments? That I would spend seven months on edge, holding my breath just praying that my babies would make it earth-side? That the fear wouldn’t vanish after birth but follow me into motherhood? That I’d still be in therapy three years later, unpacking it all?

TV and movies almost never show the real side of pregnancy, especially high-risk ones, multiples or not. And even when they try, living it is nothing like watching it play out on a screen. I was sold a version of motherhood that felt tidy, predictable, even magical. I was sold a lie, and that’s something I’m still trying to make peace with.

But the more I opened up about my experience, the more I realized I wasn’t alone. Sharing my story invited others to share theirs. Women I’ve known for years, friends, acquaintances, strangers online, began telling me their own versions of this truth. And while no two journeys are the same, there’s comfort in knowing you’re not the only one. That’s why I keep talking. That’s why I keep sharing.

My goal isn’t to create fear around pregnancy, it’s to break the silence around the parts no one talks about. Because the truth is, the hard parts deserve to be seen, too.

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How 1 became 2, and 2 became 5