Growing a Life: Stages, Struggles, and Strengths in Pregnancy – Part 1

Pregnancy is an incredible, transformative journey—one filled with anticipation, joy, and unexpected challenges. While every pregnancy is unique, many women share common fears and experiences that shape their path to motherhood. Understanding the different stages, possible complications, and emotional shifts can help you feel more prepared as you embark on the life-changing experience of bringing a child into the world.

Before the First Trimester (Weeks 1-12): The Reality of Early Pregnancy

The internet paints a general picture of the first trimester:

• Rapid fetal development, including the formation of major organs.

• Hormonal changes leading to nausea, fatigue, and mood swings.

• The placenta begins forming, supplying essential nutrients to the baby.

While these changes are medically accurate, the real experience is often downplayed, particularly the emotional and physical toll these hormonal shifts take. Many people dismiss the struggles of early pregnancy with a simple, "Women have been giving birth for centuries," failing to acknowledge the deeply personal and sometimes painful reality that many of us endure.

My Personal Journey: Overcoming Uterine Fibroids

Like many women of color, I faced a struggle beyond morning sickness and fatigue—I battled uterine fibroids. Getting pregnant was not as simple as tracking my ovulation or waiting for the "right time." My body needed intervention before it could even sustain a pregnancy.

After numerous consultations, I was told that my only option was a hysterectomy—an answer that meant I would never become a mother.

But I refused to accept that fate. I prayed, remained patient, and fought through the disappointment of twenty-three doctors telling me "No." Finally, I found a surgeon who believed in preserving my uterus. The five-hour surgery that followed was intense—I lost nearly two liters of blood and spent eight weeks in recovery before I could even try to conceive.

Facing the Fear of Infertility

Even after the surgery, there was no guarantee I would become pregnant. I was given six months to conceive naturally before infertility testing would begin. The weight of that deadline was suffocating. "Infertility"—a word that haunted me. It’s one thing to choose not to have children, but to be told that you can’t. That was a fear that consumed me.

As if that weren’t enough, I was warned about the heightened risks that came with my pregnancy:

• Higher chances of miscarriage

• Potential for ectopic pregnancy (where the fertilized egg implants outside the uterus)

• Gestational diabetes

• Severe morning sickness leading to dehydration

  
  

How could my body—designed to create life—struggle this much just to hold onto a pregnancy? Meanwhile, women around me described their pregnancies as "a breeze." Why was my journey so different?

The Journey to Conception

With my six-month deadline looming, I took action. I stocked up on pregnancy tests, ovulation kits, and fertility-friendly lubricants—anything to increase my chances. I tracked my cycles religiously, monitored my ovulation, and timed everything down to the hour.

Yet, month after month, nothing happened.

I watched as teenagers and unprepared mothers conceived effortlessly, while I—a woman actively trying—faced roadblock after roadblock. I questioned everything: Was my body failing me? Was I doing something wrong? Was this dream slipping away before it even had a chance to begin?

Then, finally, two days before my expected period, I took a First Response pregnancy test. A faint pink line appeared.

Positive.

In disbelief, I rushed to urgent care to confirm the results. I was pregnant.

The Emotional Rollercoaster of Early Pregnancy

I was over the moon. I told my family, my friends, my stepchildren, and my in-laws. I allowed myself to dream, to plan, to embrace the reality that I was finally going to be a mother.

Then, at five weeks, something changed.

My body felt different—like an internal alarm was sounding off. My breasts, once painfully sore, suddenly eased. My left breast no longer ached at all. My husband reassured me, believing my body was simply adjusting to pregnancy. But deep down, I knew something was wrong.

Then, one evening, as my father visited, I felt something warm trickling down my legs.

I froze.

I knew my water couldn’t have broken—it was way too soon. But as I rushed to the restroom, I saw it: blood.

I screamed.

My husband ran to me, panic-stricken, as I stood there, holding a wad of bloody toilet paper in my trembling hands.

Tears streamed down my face as I looked up at him and choked out the words I never wanted to say: "I’m losing the baby!"