You don’t have a disease, you’re pregnant!

Today’s Transparent Moment is written by Kenna. Kenna is the Mommy of 3; their adorable little boy, Brighton, and two angels in heaven, Bennett and a little sweet pea. Kenna is a Mommy that embodies grace, poise,  and is a true example of a wonderful mom. She and her husband have been through so much in the past couple of years, but their strength is astounding and admirable; their story is heart breaking. Thank you for sharing your heart Kenna! I think it’s such a great, important reminder. You truly are remarkable!

 

“You don’t have a disease, you’re pregnant.”

My sweet husband had to remind me of this on an almost daily basis when we were pregnant with our first child, our little girl, Bennett. I’d respond, whining, “I know, but I’m so sick and so tired.” And he’d remind me of all the women that had been having babies for thousands of years. Well, I wasn’t those women; I’m me, and I am living now, not in the 1800’s when they were a lot tougher! He wasn’t trying to be unsympathetic, he was just trying to be real―trying to take some of the attitude out of my attitude, so maybe I wouldn’t focus on all the throwing up I was doing. I remember saying, “She better be cute!”

Then came the thirty week appointment. I was beginning to feel like after 210 days of throwing up, I was finally getting there! It would all be worth it once we met our little lady. But the unfathomable happened: at the end of the appointment, our doctor was unable to find a heartbeat. My world collapsed.  In the midst of all my complaining, I hadn’t stopped to realize: I was so deeply in love with my sweet little girl. She was my future. I’d have died for her. Guilt knocked me over like a tidal wave. In an instant, heartburn and puking became cherished memories, shared with a child I would only be privileged to hold once.

After that experience, the first time I heard a woman complain about her pregnancy, I felt like I had been stabbed in the heart. I wanted to punch her, but I also so badly wanted her to know how lucky she was to still be pregnant, and how much I wanted to take her place. She should know my pain: then she’d know better than to complain. Immediately, I knew I couldn’t really wish this hole of despair on anyone, and a rush of guilt filled me. My husband gently reminded me that I didn’t have this unfair perspective before, either. How could she know?

Thankfully, we were able to get pregnant with Brighton ten weeks later. I remember beaming each time I ran to the toilet or lost it in the sink. “The baby’s growing!” I’d cry.  And I hardly noticed the pulled groin muscle that caused me to limp my entire pregnancy. Around seven months, our little guy sat on my ureter, causing a sharp pain in my back―like a kinked muscle―that lasted until Brighton was about a month old.  Instead of whining, I chuckled at his masterful movement. His movement was constant: and I praised him for his reassurance, no matter what time of day or night.

I am now so aware of women everywhere that don’t have the I-got-pregnant-the-month-we-started trying-and-posted-the-positive-test-on-Facebook-and-forty-weeks-later-had-a-perfect-vaginal-delivery- and-posted-the-healthy-baby-photos-on-my-Wall experiences.  Our stories are all different―there are women that lose more babies than they get to hold, or ones who try for years to conceive, feeling each month like they’ve had a loss when they start their period.

Readers: Kenna’s heart is transparent in this post. It’s so difficult to lay your heart out there with such a tender topic. I hope you can see how deeply caring she is. She knows there is nothing they can do to bring their sweet little Bennett back, but hopes that they can use her life to help bring perspective to others, or a sensitivity to others tragedy. Thank you Kenna for sharing your heart. 

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