I’m not pregnant.  I’m not pregnant.  I’m not pregnant.  Life stops here.  Life starts here. 

This is a poem I wrote the day after I found out I was pregnant.

It started with a late period. I let the man I was dating know, but reassured him (and myself) that it was probably just stress. 

I was a student-athlete, after all. The move to a new place, intense training, school pressure—any of this could have thrown off my cycle. 

But after a week, the unease grew. 

I took a pregnancy test. Then another. And another. By the fourth, it was undeniable: I was pregnant. 

I wondered how this could be happening. I had an Intrauterine Device (IUD). 

It was Mother’s Day… the irony stung. 

Training, Tests, and a Secret I Couldn’t Say Out Loud 

The day after I found out, I missed training. I told my coach something vague about my health and needing to see a doctor. I wasn’t ready to explain and was still struggling to understand the pregnancy myself. 

I went to Planned Parenthood with my boyfriend. We learned about abortion and adoption while reflecting on what it would take to raise a baby. We knew early on that any of the options would have life-changing consequences. I learned about early pregnancy symptoms, though I was already feeling them: exhaustion, mood swings, food cravings, and a sense of foreignness in my own body. 

That season, I was playing in the United Soccer League’s W League (USLW) for the West Seattle Rhodies Football Club, a semi professional team in the Pacific Northwest. I worked so hard to get that opportunity. It was a dream come true. 

Despite finally achieving my goal, I asked to stop training. I started to feel alone. I couldn’t reach out to my teammates and express myself. I felt lost in what I wanted and who I wanted to be.

Can an Athlete Be a Mother? 

Being simultaneously a mother and an athlete wasn’t part of my plan. I never saw myself as a mom, not now and maybe not ever. My dream has always been to be a professional athlete. I believed, consciously or not, that motherhood and sport couldn’t exist together. 

That belief was being challenged. I’d watched teammates go through pregnancies and return to the field. I’d also seen women like Alex Morgan and Crystal Dunn share their motherhood journeys while competing at the highest levels. They were redefining what’s possible. 

But when it happens to you, it feels different. You’re the one missing practice. You’re the one hiding your reality. You’re the one questioning if your body can still belong to sport. 

“I don’t have all the answers. I’m still living through this moment. But what I do know is that we need to talk, openly, honestly, and with compassion about pregnancy, reproductive health decisions, and menstrual cycles in sport. Little girls need to know that they will be supported no matter what choice they make. ”

VIS Community Member

The Crossroads of Choice and Identity 

Being pregnant brought up so many questions for me—physically, socially, emotionally, and societally. 

“What does this mean for my playing time?”  “What about my future?”  “What will my teammates think?”  “Can I even talk to them about it?” 

I realized how little space there is for these conversations in women’s sports. There’s no clear playbook for athletes who are navigating reproductive health decisions while trying to pursue their dreams. 

It’s Time to Talk About It 

The truth is that this is a part of women’s sports. It has always been. We just don’t talk about it enough. 

Women athletes are human. We menstruate. We get pregnant. We face decisions about our bodies that deeply impact our careers. 

And yet the support systems, from medical care to mental health, from financial stability to societal understanding, are still catching up. 

Having access to these support systems has started at the professional level, but there’s still significant progress to be made regarding semi-professional teams and college teams. What would it look like if all of our sports institutions created real support for athletes who become mothers? If we had coaching staff, medical teams, role models and league policies that truly embraced the full reality of female bodies? 

What would it mean if we could share these stories without shame? 

Life Starts Here

I don’t have all the answers. I’m still living through this moment. But what I do know is that we need to talk, openly, honestly, and with compassion about pregnancy, reproductive health decisions, and menstrual cycles in sport. Little girls need to know that they will be supported no matter what choice they make. 

Because life doesn’t stop here. For some of us, it starts here.