10 Things I Would Tell Myself - Two Years Ago and Pregnant
9.20.2025
04 - a personal blog
Two years ago, I was carrying more than just a baby—I was carrying fear, questions, and a future I couldn’t yet imagine. If I could sit with that version of myself, I’d remind her of the strength she couldn’t see, and the love that was already shaping her story. Here’s what I would tell her…
1. You are valid.
Your feelings are real. The tears, the fear, the exhaustion—they mattered then and now. You don’t need to minimize or compare your pain to anyone else’s story. What you felt was true.
2. Asking for help doesn’t make you a burden.
You didn’t always know how to ask. And sometimes, even when you did, the help didn’t feel like enough. But needing support never meant you failed. You carried more than anyone could see.
3. You are struggling, and that is okay.
Pregnancy isn’t always glowing skin and joyful anticipation. Sometimes it’s constant appointments, overwhelming diagnoses, and exhaustion beyond words. Struggling through it didn’t make you weak—it made you human.
4. Depression does not define you.
Antenatal and postpartum depression made you feel broken. Treatment didn’t seem to help. You blamed yourself, but the truth is—you fought. You showed up. You survived. That’s a strength.
5. You are not to blame.
The anxiety, the guilt, the dark thoughts—you carried them like they were your fault. But they weren’t. Neither you nor not your baby is to blame. Not the diagnosis, the fetal congenital abnormalities, the Down syndrome, the heart defects, the preeclampsia, or even the PTSD. None of it was because of you.
6. Rest is not weakness.
You thought you had to push through it all. To prove you could carry it. But your body was begging for rest, and rest would have been strength, not surrender.
7. You are allowed to grieve and hope at the same time.
You grieved the future you thought you’d have and hoped for the one unfolding. That doesn’t make you conflicted—it makes you a mother whose love was fierce and real.
8. Your body was carrying more than a baby.
You were also carrying fear, grief, and constant stress. Appointment after appointment. Frequent changes and follow-ups. Your days and nights shifted to make room for it all. “Your body wasn’t just growing a child—it was holding the weight of an entire storm. No wonder you cried every day. No wonder you felt so tired—it was never just the pregnancy you carried.
9. You did your best—and that was enough.
Even when it felt like you were failing, you showed up. You kept going to every appointment. You switched schedules to put your baby first. You gave everything you had. That was always enough.
10. One day, your story will help someone else.
In those moments, you couldn’t see it. You felt like your pain was meaningless. But today, your story lives on. And tomorrow, it may be exactly what another mama needs to keep going.
From Ivy’s Branches,
If you’re carrying the weight of a pregnancy filled with fear, uncertainty, or guilt, please hear me — you are not alone. Your feelings are valid. Your tears are not a weakness. Even in its hardest chapters, your story is still filled with meaning.
One day, you may look back and see strength where you once only saw survival. And you’ll know that love—yours and Ivy’s—was woven into every step. Until then, keep going. Keep breathing. Keep showing up. That is enough. And you—just as you are—are enough.
