Starting over despite the fear: Alexandra Guerain and her second pregnancy

Doing it again despite the fear. Some pregnancies leave scars that never fully heal. Alexandra Guerain knows this better than anyone: ten years after an initial experience that left its mark on her, she chose to go through it again, this time with her eyes wide open. Between the weight of the past, the meeting that changed everything, and a pregnancy lived "in fear and neutrality," she shares an unfiltered testimonial on what it means to: learn to trust one's body again.

For nearly ten years, the idea of a new pregnancy was unthinkable. Was there a specific turning point that made you decide to go for it again?

Honestly, I didn't have the courage. But meeting my boyfriend, Rayane, changed everything... I have always been very independent, managing everything on my own. And here I met someone I could lean on, who made me feel secure enough to say, "maybe, why not"...

It was really that which turned things around, gradually, with him. And then, I always wanted two children, a sibling. I grew up with a brother, and I think that as an adult, when navigating life's difficulties—like having a sick parent, that sort of thing—it's important. Granted, you aren't always guaranteed to get along with your brother or sister, unfortunately. But I wanted that for Tyhoa (her eldest daughter, ed.) as well, for her future.

There's also the question of age. I’m not old; you can have children much later, but my daughter is already a certain age. When I turn 45, she will be 20, and I will be fairly "free." 45 is very young, but at that point, with that newfound freedom, I couldn't see myself starting over with a young child.

For this new pregnancy, you did everything the opposite of the first time: you wanted it, prepared for it, and expected it. What role did fear play in that anticipation and preparation?

I didn't really prepare for it, but we kept in mind that it was a possibility. We said to ourselves: I'm 35, let's let things happen. If it happens, it happens; if it doesn't, it doesn't. I had set an age limit for myself: 38.

As for fear, it still played a role, but I tried to stay positive and focus on the hope that it would be different.

Body and Mind

Your first pregnancy was traumatic (contractile uterus, bedridden for long months). You knew the second one wouldn't be spared. From the outside, one might think you experienced it better this time. Is that the case?

Honestly, a little bit yes, but mostly no: overall, I didn't experience it better.

What helped me was knowing what I was getting into, which allowed me to anticipate things. But in truth, as expected, everything in pregnancy is completely out of control, out of my reach. And that is also why it's terrible for me and my mental health: it's beyond control, whereas my biggest problem in everyday life is that I don't know how to let go. It's a recurring theme in my other fears in life, in my way of being, my way of thinking. In terms of mental health, I think it was quite similar to the first pregnancy.

The part of me that perhaps experienced it better was on the physical side. I wasn't hospitalized, no long hospital stays, no transfers to major maternity wards, and all those things I went through the first time. Fewer IVs, less of all that. But I was still monitored very, very closely, with a lot of stress.

How did you tame this "unpredictable" body? Did you do things differently?

Mostly, I anticipated better: I had more medical appointments from the start. And I anticipated staying somewhat calm, to avoid reaching the point of no return where I would have been hospitalized.

You said in an episode of your podcast that despite wanting this pregnancy, you burst into tears when you announced it. What was your biggest fear? And is it the same one as ten years ago, or a different one?

Yes, I cried, from stress, from trauma, from triggers. I cried a little. Of course, I was happy, but the panic took over immediately. I thought: "Oh dear, am I sure about this?"

I find that to be a difficult question. There is so much ambivalence in motherhood and pregnancy. It's so hard to be 100% sure. Of course, I'm sure I want a child, but am I sure I am capable of going through the ordeal of pregnancy myself? No.

It's like the questions people often ask: "Are you sure the guy you're having the child with is the right one?" To me, those are somewhat lunar questions because even though I would love to have the answer—an absolute answer—and even though I believe in it today, that doesn't mean it will be the case in five years. Because in life, unfortunately, anything can happen.

How do you learn to trust a body that has already "let you down"? Is "trust" even the right word, or do you just move forward without it?

You don't trust it. I didn't really trust my body, even though, in the end, it held up. It's more of a survival mode, where you hold your breath. Personally, that's how I experienced it, and that's what's terrible.

There were days when I could let go a little. In fact, for me, the only thing that does you good in pregnancy, the only thing that soothes your mental health, your body, and all the symptoms that come with it, regardless of what they are, is giving birth. So, the more the days go by, the more the stress decreases, and the more things calm down. During the first few weeks, I couldn't do it; as it progressed, things got better, and I felt more confident. But at the beginning, you move forward without it.

How do you prepare for the arrival of a second child with a high-risk pregnancy?

I'm quite superstitious. I don't know if that's the right word, but in any case, I prefer not to rush: not to prepare too many things, not to anticipate too much, not to buy too many beds or clothes, just in case.

It's like in motherhood: when people ask "is your baby sleeping?", even if he is sleeping, I always reply "yeah, no." Because I feel like as soon as you say yes, that's it, it's ruined, they stop sleeping. So how do you prepare? I prepared like this: in fear and neutrality.

What gives you strength in this new pregnancy, and what gave you the strength to do it again?

My partner and my daughter, my duo. Even if I can't tell her everything and dump everything on her, because it's not healthy, she helps me. It helps to have someone.

What is shown

You are very honest about what you are going through, and ultimately, there are few voices speaking up about complex pregnancies. What do you want to say to women who are living through what you have experienced?

I don't always want to talk about it because sometimes I think it's too negative, and that's not necessarily the message I want to send, because basically, I'm quite lighthearted in my communication style. I talk about clothes; I don't go deep into what I'm thinking because that's not how I want to be on social media.

But on the other hand, when I'm not doing well or when I'm looking for answers, I often turn to social media: I'll search for "complicated pregnancy," etc. And ultimately, the fact that I search for that too and that some content allows me to feel less alone... why not share my own? Perhaps that's exactly what will help other people realize the ambivalence of motherhood. Because I find it isn't talked about enough.

Either it's wonderful, or it's terrible. Either we talk about mothers who have given up, abandoned everything, and we put them on the stake as if they were the worst people in the world; or perfect mothers, everything is great, it's the best role of my life. But there is inevitably an in-between, a nuance. And I think it's a shame that it isn't highlighted more. Because just because you hate something doesn't mean you can't love it at the same time. For example, I hate being pregnant, but that doesn't stop me from loving my children. Those are two things that need to be learned to be dissociated, which people rarely do.

Alexandra gave birth to her second child, a boy, Juna, in August 2026.