Motherhood: but make it Yours, Volume 5

A beautifully unfiltered take from my sister-in-law Noor on what happens when life — and pregnancy — takes you by surprise

Pregnancy is a true miracle. And in my case, the word miracle came with extra weight. I had just moved to Nairobi, Kenya with my husband and our dog Donna.

Within eight months, we had built a beautiful life together — meeting incredible new friends, taking adventurous weekend trips to explore this stunning country, and settling into a lovely bungalow in the middle of the city, complete with a huge garden.

Starting a family wasn’t part of the plan just yet. We figured we’d wait another year or two, enjoying more time as a trio and soaking up everything this new chapter had to offer. To be honest, the idea of having a baby still felt overwhelming. I thought sleepless nights and dirty diapers didn’t exactly match our active, social lifestyle.

Then one trip changed everything — in every way imaginable.

A group of our friends wanted to climb Mt. Kenya, the second-highest mountain in Africa. I’m not the hiking type, and climbing that mountain was nowhere near my bucket list. I love walking, but once the trail goes uphill, I’m out. Still, we were living in Kenya, and everyone kept saying it would be the hike of a lifetime. Plus, I’d be the only one not going. Staying behind felt lazy. So I told my partner I’d come along — and promised not to complain…

The day before we were set to leave, I started feeling unwell. My partner teased me: “You just don’t want to go, that’s why you’re making excuses.” Maybe my body was trying to warn me. But I brushed it off: “Come on, Nora, don’t feel sorry for yourself. Girl power. You’ve got this.”

Day one was fine. But the higher we climbed, the worse I felt. I was nauseous and had a pounding headache — classic altitude sickness, I figured. But it kept getting worse. While everyone else was happily singing and taking in the views, all I could think was: When will this nightmare end? After our first freezing night in the tent, I felt like two trucks had rolled over me. Still, I kept going. I didn’t want to give up. Our guide had me walk directly behind him so he could keep an eye on me. I stopped talking and silently prayed for it all to be over.

After three days of suffering, I finally reached the summit — in tears.

As soon as I could I collapsed into my bed at home, expecting to recover quickly. But the symptoms stuck around. I still felt incredibly nauseous, dizzy, and my head was pounding. It hit me: this wasn’t altitude sickness. I never get nauseous like this. And then I remembered — I hadn’t had my period in over a month. I don’t usually track it closely, but something clicked.

I joked to my partner that maybe I should take a test — even though I had an IUD.

On a walk with the dog, I stopped by a pharmacy, bought a test, and took it in the middle of the forest. Seconds later, two red lines appeared. I was pregnant. It was a shock. I felt fear, happiness, excitement, and disbelief all at once.

After lots of calls with family and friends, we decided to embrace it. Maybe this was life giving us a little nudge in the right direction. Honestly, I don’t think there ever would’ve been a “perfect” time.

From day one, I experienced thoughts, emotions, and symptoms I hadn’t expected — many things no one had really warned me about. Most of my friends already had kids, and we talked about pregnancy often. But there were still so many things I had never heard about.

That’s why I decided to write this honest, personal reflection — to share what I wish I had known, both during pregnancy and in the postpartum phase.

Pregnancy is not a glow

Some of my friends told me they had never felt better than when they were pregnant. But I knew from the start: that famous “pregnancy glow” doesn’t come standard. And especially not during the first trimester.

For 16 weeks straight, I felt nauseous, emotional, exhausted, and deeply homesick. I had daily headaches and zero appetite (especially for anything healthy..). I had no idea pregnancy could hit this hard. And yet — during those brutal weeks — many women are still working, keeping the whole thing a secret until the 12/13-week mark.

That still baffles me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so consistently awful in my life, and no one was supposed to know?

Beyond the physical symptoms, it’s also strange to watch your body change — even in those early stages. It’s beautiful, yes, to witness the start of a new life growing inside you. But no one warned me how tough that in-between phase can be. You don’t quite look pregnant yet, but your jeans no longer close. You feel bloated, your body is different, but the world can’t see why. You just look... softer. And while positivity gurus might cheer “own it, girl — you’re pregnant!”, I sometimes just wanted someone to say: Yes, this part can suck. It’s okay if you don’t feel at home in your body right now.

Meanwhile, my partner’s life stayed the same. He went to work, went out with friends, made dinner. I crawled into bed at every opportunity and counted down the hours until I could sleep again. I wasn’t living — I was surviving.

At 16 weeks, the nausea finally eased. I almost cried from relief. New symptoms came up — pain in my tailbone, breathlessness after just a few stairs, and that ongoing homesickness. But I managed. It felt like I had entered a new chapter. My real second trimester had finally begun, a little later than expected.

Every day, I became more aware of how much I admire women. Pushing through the physical and mental rollercoaster of pregnancy, while still working, cooking, running errands, taking care of the house — it’s honestly heroic. Let’s stop sugarcoating it. This is not just glowing. This is grit.

The emotional underbelly

Beyond the physical symptoms — which felt like they would never end — there were the mental ones. And every week, I’d ask myself: Am I really ready for this? Can I actually do this? Will I ever accept this transformation, this new life?

I didn’t feel like myself at all. It was like I was floating, living on another planet, half- dreaming. On the outside, I looked okay. But inside, I felt distant from everything — and especially from myself.

Pregnancy can feel incredibly lonely, too. I missed home so much it hurt. The smells, the energy, the people around me in Kenya — everything felt too much. All I wanted was to eat licorice and sit on my mom’s couch.

I kept working out, but suddenly there was so much I wasn’t allowed to do anymore. I used to lift heavy weights — now, everything had to be scaled down. Everyone else was out drinking, partying, enjoying life. I’d quietly head home around 9:30 PM, completely wiped. And all those foods I loved? Off-limits.

It was a series of small sacrifices, day after day. And even though I knew what I was doing it for, it often felt like slowly saying goodbye to parts of myself. Letting go — physically, mentally — isn’t always graceful. Sometimes, it’s just really, really hard.

Still becoming

After nine long months, our beautiful baby boy finally arrived. I’ve never felt such an overwhelming mix of gratitude, joy, fear, and doubt — all within the first five minutes of looking into his eyes.

And then, the bubble began. Family and friends came to visit. We slowly started to figure out what parenthood meant, day by day getting to know this tiny human we created. We loved it — but it was also a rollercoaster.

Alongside all the love and wonder, there were so many things I hadn’t expected. No one told me you lose almost all your strength — that it feels like you’re recovering from some kind of accident. You’re not just tired — you’re rebuilding. From scratch.

I used to be such an active person, and suddenly even walking or lifting light things felt like a huge task. Everyone said, “be patient,” and of course they were right — but that didn’t make it any less hard. I had to start from zero, and honestly, I found that pretty tough.

My body had changed so much, and even though everyone around me reassured me I had nothing to complain about — and deep down I agreed — it was still yet another big shift in an already transformed life. Four months in, I still don’t fit my old jeans, even though I’m exercising again and eating well.

And the hormonal chaos? That’s real. Some days, my head feels like it’s full of sawdust. I forget my best friends’ names, forget to pack diapers and milk for a long evening out. I feel vague, blurry, like I’m not fully present.

Sometimes, I miss my old life. Having a baby is incredible — but it also means saying goodbye, overnight, to everything that came before. Your old body. Your old mind. Your little rituals, your pockets of time to just be.

These changes are huge. And I think they’re often overlooked — even by ourselves. I want other mothers, or mothers-to-be, and all other people on this planet to know that yes, motherhood is the most profound, humbling joy. But it’s also a huge process.

It takes time to grow into a new life, a new body, and a new version of yourself. And that’s okay!