Two Lines and a Mental Breakdown (Wing Sauce Was Involved)

 

So, let's rewind nine glorious months, shall we? The day my life decided to take a sharp left turn into the land of baby bumps and unsolicited advice. It started like any other day: two F45 classes, step goals crushed, and a perfectly balanced meal of high protein and Greek yogurt. You know, the usual.

Then a sudden realization! Three days late. Three. Days. Late. My period, the reliable clockwork of my existence, had gone rogue. Cue the panic. I grabbed a test, peed on a stick, and there it was. Two lines. Instantaneously. Like, before I even had time to process what was happening.

"That can't be right," I thought. So, naturally, I did what any sane person would do: drove back to the store and bought the test that spells it out in no uncertain terms. "Pregnant." Yep, that's what it said. And all of this happened before 7 AM. Because as previously discussed. I thrive on starting my days early. 

Now, I had a solid 11 hours to mentally spiral before I could break the news to baby daddy. And spiral I did. TikTok became a horror show of pregnancy nightmares: unavoidable weight gain, the inability to work out, and the constant shoving of fast food down my throat. (Apparently, those two lines trigger an instant craving for drive-thrus and the approval to eat for 2)

Suddenly, everything I'd worked so hard for felt like it was slipping away. My already only "sometimes stable" mental health was plummeting faster than a Kardashian's approval rating. I was convinced I'd gain an unimaginable amount of weight and start eating like a garbage disposal.

And then, the other anxieties kicked in. What would he think? Would he be mad? Would he still find me attractive when I begin looking the polar opposite of what he fell in love with? Don't act like you haven't had these thoughts. As females, we're conditioned to question everything. Blame society, blame movies, blame the horrible men we've dated that strayed, blame Instagram filters. Blame anything that's ever made you doubt yourself and feel the need to over criticize your body. It's understandable. 

Here I am, now five hours into my mental breakdown, feeling utterly alone. Because let's be real, pregnancy isn't all sunshine and rainbows. It's lonely. It's mentally exhausting. It brings up feelings you didn't even know you had. It brings up feelings of resentment to your partner, while simultaneously craving to be closer to them. All once again, justifiable. 

One of the biggest struggles I face is the guilt I felt for not wanting to participate in the things my partner wants to continue doing. It's debilitating to force yourself into social situations and events with people who are living their life completely normal, when you feel like a shell of who you were 9 months ago. You want this person to enjoy their life and not push your anxieties onto them, while at the same time desperately needing them to come down to your level just a tad. It's a constant internal battle between wanting to be supportive and wanting to crawl into a hole and disappear until you feel normal again. 10/10 recommend. 

Now, let’s get something straight. I know, I KNOW, that all of these feelings and thoughts can easily be dismissed as "selfish" or "small" when you’re talking about bringing a baby into the world. It’s supposed to be the ultimate sacrifice, right? But here’s the thing: just because you’re creating life doesn’t mean your feelings are invalid. They don’t disappear. They don’t become less real. It’s not selfish to acknowledge the mental and emotional toll of pregnancy. It’s not wrong to express what’s going on in your head. You’re allowed to feel overwhelmed, anxious, and even resentful, even when you’re overjoyed about the baby.

The afternoon finally rolled around, and I had to figure out how to break the news. No cute plans, no elaborate videos, just pure, panic. We'd planned a wing night, so when I got home, he was in full chef mode (a rare occasion), and covered in sauce. I quietly laid the tests on our bed, feeling like I was about to throw up (not from nausea).

If you know this man, you know he exaggerates his level of hunger and immediate need to eat. It's a life or death situation if you are a 5 minute hold up into his meal- and there I was causing the wings to marinate for 60 extra seconds while I stared at the bed. That'll work. I called him in and he rushed to the room (anxious to eat- not to see what I had going on LOL), and stares at the tests unable to touch anything, as his hands are dripping with wing sauce. Was he applying it with his hands? I still don't know. 

"I knew you were pregnant". Cue my internal psycho thinking: How? do I look fat already? It's been 12 hours. 

He washed his hands (thankfully) and we spent the rest of the night navigating the emotional rollercoaster. But here's the kicker: those feelings? They don't go away. They escalate. Even nine months in, my brain feels like it's on a different planet than my body.

And I guess that's why I'm writing this. To tell you that you're not alone. To validate those "stupid" anxieties. Because pregnancy is lonely. You watch your body change daily, and if you're someone who works hard to maintain a certain physique, that's HARD. You worry you'll never be the same. You worry your partner won't feel the same. You feel isolated, guilty, and overwhelmed. And then there's the constant barrage of opinions, the "you don't look that different" lies that are meant to be support. It's A LOT. 

Honestly, I'd rather go back to one week of almond-munching days than deal with this mental chaos. 

Now, while this post may have leaned heavily into the negative experiences and mental hurdles I've faced so far, I want to emphasize that physically, I’ve felt fantastic. I truly believe that my nutrition and exercise choices have played a massive role in that. Instead of falling into the trap of “typical pregnancy” norms or succumbing to the standard human diet of processed garbage, I’ve stuck to what I know works for my body. And let me tell you, it’s made all the difference.

We'll dive into these lighter, probably more controversial topics next time. Until then- maybe book a therapy session? Cry? Whatever you find that works. But also- let me know so I can try.