It was just a few days before Christmas, and I was packing for a holiday trip with my family to Big Bear Lake, California — completely unaware that my life was about to change. I’d been feeling off. I figured I’d picked something up while traveling — maybe a cold or some random airport bug, nothing serious. But after ruling out the flu and getting a negative COVID result, there was one last test I hadn’t taken.
It was early morning, and I was still groggy and not feeling well. My partner was spending the holidays with his family and didn’t even know I was taking a pregnancy test. I remember sitting in the dark in the bathroom, assuming the test would be negative and I’d just roll back into bed defeated, chalking it up to the bad luck of getting sick right before Christmas. I definitely didn’t think I was pregnant already — we’d only just begun “not not trying.” But after a few minutes, I flipped the test over and there they were. Two faint lines.
I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and turned on the light, thinking maybe I was imagining it. But those lines kept getting darker. I immediately FaceTimed my partner with the test in full view. His face is something I’ll never forget — equal parts shock, disbelief, and joy.
We were excited. My partner and I were already on the same page about wanting a baby, but neither of us expected it to happen so fast. Our families were thrilled — this is the first grandchild on either side. But once the holiday joy wore off, it hit me: I was going to spend my entire final semester of college pregnant.
At first, I kept it quiet. Besides our families, I didn’t tell anyone until I was out of the first trimester. When I finally did share, I went full Instagram hard launch: teddy bear, sonogram photo, and a double announcement: “I’m having a baby. And it’s a girl.” The support I got online was amazing. Friends DMed me the sweetest messages, and I felt so loved.
But offline, I kept things more lowkey.
That semester, I only had four classes — two online and two in person — which meant I barely saw the friends who knew about my pregnancy. I didn’t tell any of my professors. I thought about it, especially when it came to my in-person classes, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud. It felt too vulnerable. I was scared of being underestimated, or pitied. I didn’t want my professors to assume I wouldn’t finish my undergrad career strong. Honestly, I already had senioritis (heavy on the –itis in my case), so the last thing I needed was to feel like I had to prove myself even more. Yes, I wanted this pregnancy, and I wanted to finish my degree on my own terms.
Being pregnant in college reshaped how I took care of myself. I used to push through everything, overachieving at the expense of my mental health (typical first-gen college student behavior). But this final semester, I gave myself grace. If I couldn’t make it to class one day, I wouldn’t beat myself up about it. I slowed down — but I never stopped.
The hardest part was the first trimester. I found out I was iron deficient and anemic, which, for the non pre-med students, meant I was running on empty all the time. I experienced a different kind of fatigue that no nap could fix. On top of that, I had “morning sickness,” which seriously needs a new name, because for me it was all day sickness. I spent most of January and February bed rotting, trying to keep food down, and conserving whatever little energy I did have for the two times a week I had to be on campus.
But even later on, there were moments where I felt a crash out coming — mostly around my social life. I’ve never been the most outgoing or extroverted person, but I had my circle, and I didn’t want to completely disappear on them during our final semester. There were days where I’d be getting ready for a school event or just going to hang out with friends and thinking I had the cutest outfit — only for it to feel completely off the second I put it on. We’ve all been there, but multiply that frustration by five when you’re five to six months pregnant and dealing with body dysmorphia. But I also knew this chapter with my friends was closing soon. So I made some compromises — stretchy dresses became my go-to — and I embraced the moments of my undergrad career.
When graduation day finally came, my emotions were still the same as a lot of my classmates. I was proud, exhausted, and honestly… kind of over it. San Francisco State University’s commencement ceremony is at Oracle Park (aka where the San Francisco Giants play), and I’d spent the day showing my family around the area, so my feet were done. And, as usual, it was freezing, so that made the actual commencement ceremony drag on and on. (Do we really need so many speakers?) And of course, I definitely had some FOMO seeing my friends celebrate commencement in true 21+ fashion, since I couldn’t partake for the obvious reason.
But the moment I walked that stage — six and a half months pregnant — and saw myself on the jumbotron holding my diploma, everything else faded away. I had just done something unforgettable. Sure, it felt like I was closing one chapter and stepping into the next so quickly. While my classmates and friends were talking about job and internship hunting, summer vacations, and grad school, I was thinking about prenatal appointments, nesting, and all things third trimester-related. But I didn’t feel like I was missing out; if anything, I felt even more grounded. When I saw other student parents who graduated alongside me — some with baby carriers strapped to their chest, others taking photos outside the Oracle with their toddlers — it reminded me that everyone’s post-grad journey looks different.
After the ceremony, my entire family walked across the street to our hotel and headed to the rooftop. We celebrated under fireworks lighting up the sky. I took photos in my cap and gown, baby bump and all, with purple and yellow sparks behind me. That moment was everything. I’m the first in my family to graduate from college, and I was carrying the next generation with me — literally.
This experience has been an intense one, but I’m so grateful for the choice I made that led me here. My story is proof that higher education and motherhood can coexist; you don’t have to give up one to choose the other.