Amanda Felice

A million thoughts flowing through my head that seem to increase with every minute. I look at my body that has now visibly changed in shape along with the changes in the way I sleep, eat, and engage in day-to-day activities. My life is no longer my own. It belongs to this little person that as of now is the size of an onion.

Not too long ago I was sitting in a doctor’s office being told that the chances of me being able to conceive were so slim that it was nearly impossible, and now here I am fully embarked on this journey that has opened my eyes to so many things, foremost how to treat my body well.

My twenties were a time of over exercising and under eating. A time of trying desperately to fit into the smallest size of clothing that was possible for my body. Above all, it was a time that was completely devoted to myself. The thought of having to give up a schedule of doing what I want for a child, or anyone else for that matter, was repulsive to me. Even when I turned thirty, and should have had the urge to begin nesting, I would look at my friends who had kids and would pride myself on being able to do what I want and not have to worry about the well being of someone else. I had my freedom. So, after getting married at thirty-three, and settling in to married life, I finally felt the undeniable urge to begin a family.

Trying to accomplish this goal, and being met with defeat, left me craving a child even more. I would find myself overcome with sadness and jealousy when I would see a pregnant woman or a mother with her baby. I began searching the internet to find any possible cause for my not being able to get pregnant. I sought out help from an infertility doctor, which only strengthened my obsession with having a child. Several tests were run and everything kept coming back normal. I was quickly running out of hope. Several test results and consultations later, the option of insemination was brought to me. Although I was saddened that this may be my only option, a weight of tremendous force had been lifted off my shoulders.

With my six month long pregnancy mission at ease, I was able to relax with the knowledge that although medical assistance wasn’t part of the plan, I would have a baby. My obsession with conceiving was over.

A few weeks later I held in my hand a positive pregnancy test. It was unexpected, and it was without the help of any physician. From that day forward, my life would never be the same.

As I look in the mirror and watch my body change before my eyes, my emotions range from fear to overwhelming excitement. The body that I have examined, analyzed, and picked apart for years is now out of my control. It belongs to this little person whose heartbeat I have heard and whose movement I have felt. Every choice I make or thought I have in some way involves my baby. I look forward to not being able to roll out of bed and do what I want, when I want, and for whatever length of time I want to do it. I have had thirty-two years of that, and now I can’t wait to see what this child has in store for me. I know it won’t always be easy, and I know it won’t always be fun, but I would do anything for this child inside of me and that’s all that matters.