Something more than Baby Brain
So, this might seem like a humbrag, but it really isn’t. Everyone has something they like about themselves. Some people have a physical thing, some have a skill or ability, some have an emotional superpower. My superpower — is my brain.
It’s my always go to. It has gotten me out of a huge amount of scrapes. It has built worlds and housed enormous creativity. It has helped manage my emotions and keep me on an even keel through some devastating personal situations. It has been fast, and fierce and functional and has provided rapid fire, immediate protection when needed and has lent me formidable fire power in moments of opportunity.
I’ve always been able to rely on it. It is my ultimate tool in my back pocket. Get a court appearance sprung on you? Go brain, do your thing. Need to consume a vast amount of data and spit it out into a coherent engaging report in 24 hours? You’re up brain, nae stress nae bother, push through and we got this. Got yourself stuck (again) in a precarious travel position - take a breath and think, time for Brain to fix this current Zoe mess.
Cut to now. I have a 3.5 year old who is absorbing the world around her at a cracking pace and needs engagement and stimulation. I have a fun, fast paced job that requires a lot of critical thought and creative ideation on a quick turn around and big deliverables. I still run a couple of side businesses — one that has me booking and negotiating with clients and another that involves my performing rapid, often off the cuff comedy into a microphone at a few to a few hundred people most weekends. I should be thriving, this is what my sensory seeking brain loves. I know this. It’s who I am, how I function, what I’ve built my life around.
Until it’s not.
I’m 6 months pregnant (with babe numero dos) and my brain isn’t working the way it normally does.
We all know (well, women more so) that getting pregnant and having a baby means an awful lot of personal sacrifice. The degree to which that affects you varies from woman to woman and is heavily dependent on what kind of run you get with pregnancy (not to mention what kind of kid you get thereafter).
Last pregnancy, I had a pretty good run of it. Physically I was good except for a few bouts of catching all the seasonal colds and flus. My body didn’t let me down, and my brain didn’t either. True — I was in a different position. I was at a job I could mostly do in my sleep and I had no toddler to run after. I was a DINKer (dual income, no kids) and not yet paying off a mortgage so I had a bunch of disposable income to chuck at holidays, cute things for baby and massages.
I guess I’m trying to stand up for Old Mate here — where Old Mate is my brain, and I’m fiercely loyal and protective of its reputation. I want it known that I appreciate that this time around, there is a lot of additional ‘life’ happening simultaneously. Oh yeah, covid happened in the interim too. That old chestnut of earth shattering world change forever hitching a ride on our backs.
I should also say here that despite the additional stress, ol’ mate is doing a bang up job at keeping any black dog wolves (yes dog-wolves) at bay. Other than the odd few hormonal swings where I feel the need to have a good cry while eating ice cream (or cry because I’m not presently eating ice cream, or cry that I was eating ice cream and now it’s all gone), my emotional core of my mind is holding up ok.
No, it’s the fast ’n’ furious finesse of my mind that I’m currently experiencing is missing.
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People talk about ‘baby brain’ with a chuckle and provide anecdotes of leaving their coffee cups on top of their car, and the car keys in their fridge and their fridge door open. Cute eh? And don’t get me wrong — I’m doing that too. I regularly walk into a room and forget immediately why I am in there. I spent a good chunk of a Monday morning in the office a few weeks back, attempting to use my mobile phone as my wireless mouse — frustrated that the little arrow cursor was mocking me in its stalemate refusal to budge on the screen… this type of “baby brain” is readily accepted. They have words for it.
“Memory problems”.
“An inability to focus”.
“A lack of mental clarity”.
But that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I’m actually grateful to Covid and the ‘brain fog’ that many people (men inclusive) experienced in that it has provided a comparative basis a larger percentage of the population can understand. Names and terms that were always in your arsenal, there to be drawn upon in a fraction of a second — are now elusive. On the tip of your tongue but for all intents and purposes, lost in a swirling abyss of information with no recall. Leaving you with air hanging, a stuttered umm or my usual go to, an embarrassed half apology after I’ve trailed off, mid-sentence “urgh sorry, baby brain”.
I’m not this person. I’ve always had the exact right word for the moment. Many would say I have too many words for any given moment. Too many ideas, too many retorts. To hang in silence afraid that what comes out will be gibberish is new to me. And I hate it. I’ve lost my superpower.
I’m sure for some uber physical people who have a physically rough pregnancy — this must be a similar feeling. To know yourself through your physical strength and ability to move, and then be suddenly limited by painful, unstable limbs — must feel very claustrophobic. I know a marathon runner who gets pelvic instability with every pregnancy. With her third she was on crutches by 18 weeks, in a wheelchair by 22. Yes, it was temporary and ultimately manageable — but pregnancy can be death by a thousand papercuts. So much of your identity is stripped away.
Want to stay up late watching movies with your husband after kid goes to bed? Nope, too tired.
Want to hang with friends but they’re doing something physical? Or less fun if you’re not drinking, or again — you’re just too bloody tired? Sounds familiar.
I feel like I always knew I was temporarily sacrificing my relationships, my social life and my body…. but now I have to give up my brain too?
Feeling it slipping away I eagerly research what is happening to me. Mummy blogs full of women discussing it while it is repeatedly only described nonchalantly as ‘Mummy brain’. I learn that pregnancy resculpts women’s brains for at least 2 years. Grey matter (‘higher brain’) shrinks in areas involved in processing. It’s thought that this wires mothers’ brains to divert efficiencies to our ‘lower brain’ or more instinctual brain that helps us respond to an infant’s needs or detect threats in our environment. Great. Sick. Thanks, science.
I know that this too shall pass.
I remember the moment I felt ‘in’ my old brain again after having my daughter. I recall it so clearly — I was hosting a show, my banter back on point, my retorts witty and sharp. Not just thinking and reacting in real time, but five verbal chess moves ahead. It was shortly after my daughter turned 3. Yep, just shy of four years after I fell pregnant. So, while I have faith I will be back, I also hope it’s quicker this time. Because I miss Old Mate. I miss what we have together, and I can’t wait until we’re reunited and I have my superpower back.
