[Diary of an Expat Bride] The power of positivity

I was able to push most of this negativity out of my life, and as the years passed, those detractors were eventually silenced or have turned about face. My family, once embarrassed to tell people I moved to Turkey, is now proud and have themselves visited Turkey twice in the past few years. When my husband Can and I got married, there were a few voices of dissent from both sides of the Atlantic, but nothing that neither Can or myself were unable to handle. When the issue was other people’s negativity, I could handle it. When I myself was the one being negative, this was my Waterloo. I was so happy to find out that Can and I were expecting a

baby. However, the joy soon turned to panic as my pregnancy developed problems early on. Things were so bad that we and the doctors were convinced I had miscarried. When we heard the baby’s heart beating strong, we were all surprised, but the doctor was still dire. Our baby was not out of the woods by a long shot. I changed doctors and hospitals and found a doctor who offered a more positive outlook and spoke to me very honestly. He talked to me in depth about my ultrasound and assured me that the bleeding I was experiencing was not near the baby and would most likely go away by my third month. I wanted so much to believe him, but lived in a state of depression and fear until the 12th week.

At my appointment when I was 15 weeks pregnant, my bleeding had stopped, so I should have been more relaxed and should have been feeling positive to be out of danger. I should have been excited because it was possible at this appointment to determine the baby’s gender. However, I was the exact opposite. As usual I went to my appointment alone, since my husband was in Germany for the next four months training for his new job. I had been alone for that critical first trimester and had tried to put on a cheerful face whenever we spoke over Skype and assure him I was fine. I may have smiled, but my insides were a mess.

During the ultrasound, the doctor checked the routine things, then looked at me and smiled. “It’s a boy. I am 99 percent sure!” he said. I smiled back at the doctor, but felt nothing. No joy, no excitement, nothing. My doctor noticed this and shut off the ultrasound machine. He told me to sit in his office while he picked up a few things. When he came back, he had a stern look on his face like only a doctor with grave news can muster. He lectured me for the next half an hour. First he told me that I was the first mother to not show any reaction when looking at their baby over the ultrasound. He felt that because of all of my first trimester problems, I had detached myself emotionally from the baby. My doctor was also saddened that I wasn’t enjoying my pregnancy.

“Have you bought any baby things yet?” he asked me.

I shook my head no, my eyes on the floor. I hadn’t bought one baby item because I was so scared that I would lose the baby, I couldn’t bear to have anything around the house afterwards that would remind me. My doctor’s concern for my emotional well-being brought tears to my eyes; I had spent so much effort putting on a cheerful, unworried face to my family and friends. Everyone was worried about me, and I wanted to put their fears to rest even though I couldn’t deal with my own negative thoughts.

My doctor told me that if he didn’t see an improvement in my mood by the next appointment, he was going to recommend a psychologist to me. He then wrote something on his prescription notepad, stamped it and handed it to me. “You also need to get this as soon as possible,” he said, and gestured toward the paper. I looked at it and saw that he had written, “Buy an outfit for a baby boy.” That was my prescription. I finally smiled at him and shook his hand as I left his office. What was wrong with me? If my doctor was feeling so optimistic, why couldn’t I?

On the way home, I stopped at the mall and went into the baby store. I found a cute outfit and hesitantly bought it. Then, I bought my first few pairs of maternity clothes, so necessary for my rapidly expanding waistline. I treated myself to a nice dessert and went home feeling refreshed. I wasn’t completely cured of my fears, nor was I overjoyed. But, a slow and steady feeling of excitement entered my veins, and for the first time in my pregnancy, I started talking to my baby. I held my belly and acknowledged finally that the little flutters I felt were most likely kicks. Yes, this baby was going to live, and I needed to convince myself of that fact. This little guy had convinced everyone else. I was the only one resisting him.