I’ll never forget the day I found out I was pregnant with my first. I was about 22, wide-eyed, and totally unprepared—I was in a panic and in fight-or-flight mode. My pregnancy wasn’t some glowing Instagram reel; it was nine months of puking so hard I couldn’t even swallow my own spit without gagging. But you know what made it a million times worse? The horror stories and chaos of moms around me who thought “support” meant sharing every childbirth horror story they’d ever lived—or heard. “You’ll tear down there.” “They’ll slice you open.” “Some women bleed out and don’t make it.” I was terrified, and it stole something precious from me: the joy of meeting my baby. So, can we please stop doing this to first-time moms? It’s not help—it’s a gut punch, scary and inappropriate.
Fast-forward to baby number two. I thought I’d be smarter, tougher. Nope. This time, it wasn’t just some moms around me—it was Instagram and TikTok. I’d scroll past a cute bump pic, and bam: “I went into a coma during delivery.” “My C-section complication led to amputation of my legs “Lost my baby and half my sanity.” These stories hit like bricks. I get it—moms need to vent, and awareness matters—but to a pregnant me? It was a panic trigger. I shut down my accounts for three months because I couldn’t handle one more “cautionary and horror reel.” I just wanted someone to say, “Hey, you might actually love this part.” I was looking for moms who lift me up and tell me how beautiful parenting can be. I know social media can have positive parts too, but let’s confess the scary parts are effective.
Here’s the thing: childbirth can be wild—painful, messy, and unpredictable. I’m not pretending it’s all rainbows. But when we dump our worst moments on first-time moms, we’re not prepping them—we’re paralyzing them. Studies say anxiety in pregnancy can mess with sleep, spike stress hormones, and even make labor feel harder. And honestly? It’s not fair. We’ve all got scars, but why tattoo them onto someone else’s fresh start? I wish I’d heard less “you might die” and more “you’ll figure it out.” I wish I’d heard how beautiful parenting can be.
With my second, I stumbled onto a game-changer: What to Expect When You’re Expecting. No jargon, just real talk—week-by-week breakdowns, what’s normal, what’s not. It was like a friend who didn’t bullshit me. I read it cover to cover and walked into that delivery room less like a scared kid and more like a mom ready to meet her baby. That’s what I needed: facts, not frights.
So, here’s my plea Let’s flip the script. Next time you see a glowing first-time mom, ask, “How’s it going?” Tell her how you survived the first diaper explosion or how your kid’s first smile made you cry. Share the hack that saved your sleep—like the one time I napped while my newborn napped on me. Point her to books, classes, a good OB—stuff that builds her up. Fear is dangerous for both mom and baby.
Mamas, I’m looking at you—newbies and vets alike. If you’ve got a war story, save it for your journal. Tell that pregnant gal about the moment you locked eyes with your baby, how their tiny hand wrapped around your finger and rewrote your whole world. That’s the stuff that sticks—the stuff she’ll cling to when the contractions hit. Let’s build a crew that cheers, not chills.
Hey, you with the bump—congrats! You’re growing a human, and that’s badass. Don’t let the noise steal your shine. Grab a book (What to Expect was my lifeline), talk to your doctor, and soak up the good vibes. You’ve got this—and when that baby lands in your arms, you’ll know it was worth every second.
What’s your pregnancy tale? Did someone scare you silly or lift you up? Drop it below—I’m all ears. Share this if you’re over the fear-fest and ready for #MamaLove to take over. Let’s make it viral—because every mom deserves to feel happy.
Published on: 4/17/2025