I’m Shyana, and if you’ve ever wondered what pregnancy is really like—not just the glowing Instagram posts—pull up a seat. I’m spilling the tea on my experience, from the overwhelming bits to the moments that made it all worth it. My little girl, Aria, is 6 months old now, and looking back, admitting I wasn’t always “fine” was the best thing I did. Let me take you through it.
The Start: Excited, Nauseous, and Totally Freaked Out
Picture this: I’m 28, a graphic designer with a love for hiking, and my boyfriend, Jay, and I just found out we’re having a baby. We were over the moon—cue the happy tears and goofy hugs—but also, like, whoa, how do we even do this? I was thrilled, but the first trimester hit me like a truck. Nausea every morning, exhaustion that made me nap on my lunch breaks, and this creeping anxiety I couldn’t shake. I’d Google every twinge—big mistake. One minute, I’m reading about normal cramps; the next, I’m convinced I’m miscarrying because I had a tiny spot of blood after a long day on my feet.
Why this matters: That fear wasn’t just me being dramatic—spotting and cramping are common miscarriage signs, but they’re also normal for lots of pregnancies. I didn’t know that then, and no one at my doctor’s visits asked how I was holding up mentally. They checked my blood pressure, tested for gestational diabetes (a condition where your blood sugar spikes during pregnancy—super common, affects about 10% of moms), and made sure Aria was growing. Physically, I was “fine.” Mentally? A mess.
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The Middle: Pandemic Vibes and Silent Struggles
Fast forward a few months, and I’m waddling through a pandemic. My belly’s growing, but I’m isolated—no coffee dates with friends, no baby showers. I’m trying to design logos from home while feeling like a hormonal rollercoaster. I’d wake up from weird dreams—like one where I gave birth to a puppy (what?!)—and snap at Jay over dumb stuff, like how he loaded the dishwasher. I kept thinking, “I should be grateful, I should be strong,” but I wasn’t. I was scared—scared of labor, scared something was wrong with Aria, scared stress was hurting her. Did you know stress can actually mess with your pregnancy, like raising risks for preterm birth? I didn’t need that guilt trip.
Why this matters: Pregnancy screenings are intense—ultrasounds, glucose tests, the works—to catch stuff like birth defects or preeclampsia (high blood pressure that can get serious). They’re crucial, but they fed my “what if” spiral. And going through it during lockdown? I had no one to vent to. Society says, “Pregnancy is magical!” but doesn’t tell you it’s okay to feel trapped in your own head.
The Breaking Point: “Okay, I Need Help”
One morning, I just broke. I’d had another bizarre dream, felt off, and barked at Jay for breathing too loud (poor guy). I sat on the couch, ugly-crying, and thought, “This isn’t healthy—for me or Aria.” So, I called my mom. She listened as I rambled about my fears, then said, “Shyana, every mom feels this. You’re not failing.” My bestie, Priya, who’s got a toddler, chimed in with, “Girl, I was a wreck too—totally normal.” Jay didn’t get the hormones, but he held me and said, “Tell me what you need.” That was huge.
I also flipped the script on the “don’t tell anyone ‘til 12 weeks” rule. Why hide it? If something went wrong, I’d need my people. So, I told my inner circle early. It was like lifting a weight off my chest.
Why this matters: Opening up normalized my chaos. Miscarriage happens in 1 in 4 pregnancies, often before 12 weeks, and that silence around it? Brutal. Telling people gave me a safety net. Plus, talking to Jay bridged the gap—he couldn’t feel the kicks, but he could feel me.
The Turnaround: Finding My Groove
After that, I got proactive. I tried prenatal yoga—awkward at first with my bump, but it made me feel connected to Aria, like we were in sync. I booked a session with a holistic healer who let me word-vomit all my worries without judgment. At home, I’d light a lavender candle, binge The Office, or listen to audiobooks about messy, real motherhood. Small stuff, big impact. I stopped chasing “perfect” and let myself rest.
Why this matters: Self-care isn’t just bubble baths—it’s whatever keeps you sane. Yoga tuned me into my body, lowering that constant “is she okay?” panic. Studies say mindfulness can cut pregnancy stress by up to 30%. For me, it was less about stats and more about feeling human again.
The Finish Line: Birth, Tears, and a New Me
Aria arrived after a sweaty, 14-hour labor—I’ll spare you the gory details. Postpartum hit hard; I cried daily. Hormones? Check. New mom identity crisis? Double check. But Priya was right—it’s normal. My crew checked on me, brought food, let me vent. I made it through because I wasn’t alone.
Now, I’m coaching other women—teaching them it’s okay to say, “This is beautiful and terrifying.” Pregnancy’s a wild, brave ride, and you don’t have to fake it ‘til you make it.
Why this matters: Postpartum hormones crash hard—estrogen and progesterone drop fast, triggering mood swings in 80% of new moms. Add sleep deprivation and “am I enough?” doubts, and it’s a lot. Having support turned my overwhelm into strength. Now, I’m paying it forward.
So, that’s me, Shyana—messy, real, and totally in love with my little Aria. Got any questions about my story? I’m an open book!
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