It probably doesn’t help that my husband has been away Monday to Friday for the last three months, or that we’re crawling toward the end of a house extension—because of course everything happens at once. One thing I don’t think is spoken about enough though is the panic and, on occasion, sadness that can come with pregnancy. Not just the physical exhaustion or the endless to-do lists, but that moment when it hits you: everything is about to change.

No one can truly prepare you for that.

Will I be the “natural” I’ve seen so many others be, or am I going to be a terrible mother? A dramatic thought, I know, but these are the things that have flooded my mind lately. Along with money worries (a house extension just before having a baby was probably not the wisest move), body image issues, and don’t even get me started on the birth. Regardless of how this little one decides to make their grand entrance, my body will never be the same again. Yes, I’ll have this beautiful new human in my arms, but what our bodies go through to get them here is nothing short of traumatic. I’m certainly not obsessed with body image, but I do try and take care of myself. Being so out of control of the changes happening to my body during pregnancy is difficult. So many people have told me to just embrace it, after all it’s natural. Whilst I so want to be the person that embraces change with fully open arms, I can’t help but struggle with the fact that no matter how hard I try, I likely won’t recognise this body in the mirror for a long time.

Then, layered over all of this is a quiet, underlying sadness that the life we knew—one I truly loved—is about to shift forever. Just the two of us won’t be the default anymore. Date nights lose their spontaneity. Trips away become a military operation (luckily, we have some experience there). Even popping out for bread and milk becomes a full-scale event. I’m not complaining, and I’m certainly not ungrateful for this blessing, but I do think these feelings are ok to admit… even if they aren’t talked about nearly enough.

Trying to explain all of this without sounding ungrateful or regretful is its own challenge. I recently poured these worries out to my husband, and his very logical response was, “It’s normal, every woman goes through this” followed quickly by, “Why haven’t you spoken to someone? You’ll feel better.” Helpful? In theory, yes. Comforting? Not even a little. I’m not sure if it’s a military thing or just a him thing, but empathy is not his strongest quality. He sees a problem and immediately tries to fix it. That’s not a bad thing, he’s amazing at problem solving and always looks for a solution rather than spiralling (we balance each other out that way – I spiral, he fixes). But I didn’t want logic. I wanted him to sit with me in the chaos for a minute—to listen, to understand, to put his arms around me and say, “We can do this. It’ll be okay.”

So, what does a pregnant woman do when she’s overwhelmed, exhausted, anxious, and then gets the wrong response on top of it all?

Obviously, she has a complete meltdown. Because… hormones. Anyone who’s been pregnant (well, most people) will understand the irrationality that comes with these hormonal tidal waves. As if nine months of fatigue, weight gain, and irreversible body changes weren’t already enough.

Here’s the part I’m slowly learning, though: feeling overwhelmed doesn’t mean I’m ungrateful. Feeling scared doesn’t mean I’m not ready. And feeling sad about the end of one chapter doesn’t mean I’m not excited for the next. Two feelings can live in the same space.

Some days I’m terrified; some days I’m over the moon. Most days I’m somewhere in between—still figuring it out, still growing (emotionally and literally), and still reminding myself that it’s ok not to have all the answers yet.

This time is messy and emotional and sometimes really hard… but it’s also shaping me into the mother I’m going to be. And maybe that’s enough for now.

Your Camo Wife