Questioning My Entire Existence

Pregnancy is supposed to be this magical time where you radiate serenity, grow life, and glow like a human firefly.

Right?

Wrong.

At least for me, it’s been a chaotic cocktail of compromises, flu symptoms, and surprise existential crises.

Let’s rewind for a second.

My husband and I recently had the talk.

You know, the one where I asked him point-blank if he still found me attractive while I’m waddling around, bloated, and growing another human. Oh, and we tackled the age-old question of whether he should be in the delivery room witnessing me potentially turn into a feral animal.

To my surprise, having that open conversation made everything feel lighter — like the air wasn’t so heavy between us anymore.

But the universe must have seen me finally exhale and thought, “Let’s make her regret breathing entirely.”

Enter the flu.

And not just any flu.

This one came for me like a freight train of misery, throwing in the delightful twist of pregnancy and asthma for maximum effect.

First, I was annoyed — a stuffy nose and some sneezing. Typical cold nonsense. But by day two, I was clutching my entire body like a 90-year-old who just ran a marathon. My joints ached like they were auditioning for a medieval torture scene. My brain said, “Cry, it’ll make you feel better,” but my body said, “Good luck with that, you can barely breathe.”

Then there’s the cherry on top: asthma.

Usually managed by my daily meds, it’s now a ticking time bomb because — surprise! — pregnancy doesn’t let you take your usual cocktail of helpful drugs. I’m also off my eczema medications because they’re not pregnancy-safe, which has oddly helped my asthma but left me feeling raw in other ways.

Being pregnant has officially made me more high-risk than I even realized, and trust me, there’s nothing like being pregnancy-sick to make you question every step of modern medicine.

You’d think I could turn to my usual coping mechanism, working out, to help deal with all this stress.

Nope.

Walking up a single flight of stairs now leaves me gasping for air like I’m scaling Mount Everest. I’ve officially retired from all cardio — unless you count coughing fits, which, let me tell you, are a full-body workout when you’re pregnant. One cough and I feel like I’m auditioning for an action movie stunt where I’m hit by an invisible truck.

But here’s the twist in my story — because every gut-wrenching narrative needs one.

Even as I feel like my body is betraying me, my baby girl has been a force of life and energy. She kicks constantly, a reminder that even when I’m laid flat and questioning my very existence, there’s a tiny, thriving person inside me. It’s bizarrely comforting — like she’s saying, “Hey, Mom, I’m here. You’re doing great, even when you feel like you’re not.”

Today, I’m finally seeing a sliver of light at the end of this flu-ridden tunnel. The aches are subsiding, but I still can’t take a deep breath without coughing up my soul. Movement feels like a distant dream, and honestly, I just want to be able to sleep without sweating like I’m trapped in a sauna.

Pregnancy is hard.

Flu during pregnancy is harder.

Flu during pregnancy when you have asthma?

That’s a whole new level of challenge I wasn’t prepared for.

But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in this mess, it’s that resilience isn’t about feeling good or even functional — it’s about showing up anyway. My body may be struggling, but it’s also growing a whole human. And as broken as I feel right now, I have to remind myself that’s a pretty badass thing to be doing.

So, to all the moms out there battling illnesses, aches, or just the sheer chaos of creating life: You’re not alone. We’re all in this messy, gut-wrenching journey together, and if nothing else, we’ve got some truly wild stories to tell at the end of it.

But for now, I’ll settle for surviving the week. And maybe — just maybe — finally catching my breath.

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Hi, I’m Fiona, a writer going through an unexpected chapter in life.

I lost my job in April 2024, and my husband and I have been getting by on his small medical residency income. After stepping away from IVF, we were surprised and overjoyed to find ourselves pregnant, but it’s added financial stress as we prepare for this new journey.

Writing is my way of contributing to our family while covering essentials like groceries, bills and maybe items for our 🌈 miracle baby.

If you’d like to support us, your kindness would mean the world — every little bit helps. $1, $2…Anything is appreciated. Donate here (Venmo).

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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