“Listen to your body – it knows what you need.”
Two medical professionals have said this to me now – my new OB, and my brand new cardiologist, who is actually a POTS specialist.
Amidst the weight of fat shame, my third trimester started with a new OB and a lot of anxiety. My POTS symptoms, minimal at best through the first six months of pregnancy, was returning, bringing with it slightly scary blood pressure drops, startlingly slow digestion, restless leg syndrome and the accompanying insomnia, and bouts of guilt, frustration, and anxious worry over not being ready in time. For several days in a row, I was bumbling around the house, cleaning bathrooms, folding baby clothes, rearranging my clothes, meal prepping, and trying to keep my weight gain under control with long walks, yoga, and strength training. I was feeling guilt because we still don’t have everything we “need,” and I just knew – I just KNEW – I was going to wind up on bed rest, too exhausted to organize and clean in the last month.
Last week, I gushed to my new OB about feeling bad about stopping my strength training altogether because I was just so tired and I kept feeling dizzy when I did it. I was ready to hear those fateful words that would banish me to several days of guilt and over exercising: “you need to watch your weight.”
“Good.”
Wait. What?
She smiled, “at some point in pregnancy, your body is going to tell you what it needs. It’s doing a lot right now, and it’s more important for you to rest right now.”
I could have cried. She then told me she was going to get in touch with a cardiologist she’d worked with before, because I’ve had SO. MUCH. TROUBLE. Finding a cardio who would treat an adult woman with POTS.
I met with her today. And she said the same thing – “Listen to your body. It knows what you need.” (She also told me that I’m the fourth woman she’s treated in the last year that came down with POTS during military service. Interesting.)
These are not words that are said often enough in American culture. We are tired, so we take sleeping pills. We have high or low blood pressure, so we take some pills. We get dizzy, so we go see a doctor, and the doctor says “some people just get dizzy sometimes.” (True story – that happened to me.) We don’t have enough sense in us to understand that when something feels wrong – it probably means something IS wrong, and that we should probably find out what’s wrong and change it.
ESPECIALLY when it comes to fatigue and little known conditions like dysautonomia. I’ve been struggling to learn how to listen to my body for over two years now. I had so many voices clouding my head that the voice of my body wasn’t coming through. From military leaders and colleagues telling me to suck it up, tiny heart syndrome, that I was weak, etc, to that traditional American baby boomer mantra that says much the same – “everybody is tired.”
I’ve also had people close to me tell me that I probably won’t feel so tired if I get up and go do something productive.
I’m not going to lie to you – it is a constant argument in my head, every time my blood pressure drops, every time the black spots start circling my vision, every time the world seems like it’s a rocking boat – those voices sound in my head. I hate how much power they have. I hate that every time I listen to this little kick in my ribs, and I lie down, I feel lazy.
But now that I have these other voices to add to my own, and to the persistent little rumble in my belly of a growing boy, those other voices are getting weaker. Maybe some day soon, before this lil guy makes his grand entrance into the world (not too grand, ya hear?), I’ll be able to look at my growing body and marvel at the amazing thing it’s doing, rather than getting stuck on the changes and the clothes that don’t fit anymore. I want to see me the way my husband does – a beautiful mother-to-be who is strong and worthy. I want my son to see me that way too, not only because it will frame how he sees women as a whole, but because dammit – I deserve to be seen and appreciated that way.
I’m working on that bit.
Also, while I’m here, the only appropriate commentary on a pregnant woman’s body? “You’re beautiful/ strong/ radiant/ healthy.” Literally nothing else is acceptable. You’re welcome.
If you’ve been pregnant, I’d love to hear about the body image journey you’ve been on. You can read more about mine here.
