Laura, 41 months and 3 days pregnant

Laura, 34, has been a mother for 2 years. She lives in Joinville-Le-Pont, in the Val-de-Marne, with her husband and their little boy. She had always wanted to experience the adventure of motherhood. With great impatience. A deep desire, anxiety, and mad love: here is her story.

14 MONTHS

My desire for a child came very young: I was 22/23, which is 8 years before I became a mother. It was very strong. I was always ready, so I was impatiently waiting for the "go-ahead" from my husband, Aurélien. From the moment we shared the goal of starting a family—after three years of being together—it took me 14 months to get pregnant (with some breaks at times, especially to avoid being sick or due on our wedding day...).

I knew perfectly well that "getting pregnant in the blink of an eye" wasn't the norm that society has always promoted, but I still started to worry after 6 months. According to the medical establishment, you have to wait between 12 and 24 months before medically investigating a couple's fertility. I find this delay very unfair, and I absolutely did not respect it. I had always wanted three children, so why wait? I didn't have the time. Having had an abortion as a teenager, I wanted to know if I had any lingering effects, and if Aurélien, who had never had a child, was having difficulty conceiving. And to react quickly if needed.

I went to present my arguments to a gynecologist, who was rather understanding. We carried out tests that revealed nothing alarming regarding potential infertility or incompatibility. In the months that followed, I used ovulation tests, and I am convinced that I got pregnant thanks to them! I was lost, I was calculating my cycles wrong, they were irregular, so it was a precious help. In traditional medicine, no one talks about the fact that the consistency of cervical mucus can give clues about the phases of the cycle and specifically the ovulation period, that you need to listen to your body, potentially note down what you are feeling to better understand how we function, and thus consciously stack the odds in your favor [hello to the Émancipées website, which is teeming with information on this subject - Ed.]. Today, I know how to do it, thanks to appropriate reading and a more alternative sex and reproductive education.

9 MONTHS AND 3 DAYS

During the first weeks of my pregnancy, I was very sick; I had daily nausea, partly because I was terrified of losing the embryo. I over-consulted my gynecologist and had ultrasounds almost every month to reassure myself. I was 30; I wasn't naive like a youth. People were already talking much more openly about miscarriage [15% of pregnancies end in the first few weeks - Ed.] and perinatal grief. So I was very—too—aware that this could concretely happen to me. I was afraid of mourning this child. Because if you do the math, it hadn't actually been 14 months that I'd been waiting for him, but nearly 10 years! If something happened, I was also terrified of falling back into the position I was in a few months prior, where I couldn't stand it when people announced their pregnancies, for example…

I stopped being anxious around the 4th month; I felt much better physically and psychologically as well. My belly really rounded out, everything was more concrete, and I lived my best life until I gave birth! Apart from a few bouts of insomnia at the end, I was in Olympic shape. No back pain, no leg pain: a highway of pleasure (laughs...), up until 9 months and 3 days!

18 MONTHS

Stan’s arrival in my life was a upheaval. A tornado. I didn’t just feel joy, but transcendence. I couldn't stop crying. I kept saying to myself: “It’s impossible that I am the one who created this perfect being, and it’s impossible to feel all these feelings at once.” I was completely overwhelmed and wondered when this state would end. I only thought about him, I only looked at him, I couldn't stop kissing him, and I cried, and cried, and cried. It was a destructive fire. I cried like that every day, I’d say, for 8 weeks, because when I had my 6-week postpartum gynecological check-up, I was still crying. It was all a mix of wonder and exhaustion. I couldn't handle the sleep deprivation at all, and I didn't have the mental or physical resources (it took me 3 months, among other things, to recover from my episiotomy) to process what I was going through.

Physically, I would say it took me a year to reconsider myself. To reclaim my body, to sleep better, to accept the idea of exercising or simply looking at myself. I hadn't thought about it before. I think I did myself a favor by leaving myself alone. We get enough pressure from all sides without putting it on ourselves regarding that.

Psychologically, it took longer, because I had a very poorly supported return from maternity leave at work. If I had had more clear and benevolent management, with tools dedicated to this specific transition in a woman’s life, I think my complex state would have lasted less time. I spent a good 18 months in a fog.

Maternity leave is TOO short. Giving birth, grasping motherhood, changing bodies once again, separating from your child, entrusting them to someone else, picking up your career where it was, and pursuing it with motivation. All in 4 months? 6 months of complete leave would be much more comfortable for mothers and families, and even then... I am a fervent advocate for extending maternity leave [see the petition supported by the queen midwife Ana Roy - Ed.]. The current system is far too violent.

Fortunately, the freedom of speech regarding postpartum has been lifesaving for me.

I was able to get better and feel less alone thanks to sisterhood, to podcasts like La Matrescence, like Travail en cours—which deals with well-being in professional life—to readings such as Illana Weizman's book Ceci est notre Post-Partum, Fiona Schmidt's Instagram account @bordeldemeres, and many others. Thanks to the women for TELLING us, and in their own way: for helping us rebuild ourselves.