Transparent Moment--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, 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.

If you’re pregnant, were pregnant―or know someone that is―and do not have this perspective of loss, it is invaluable to be sensitive to those who are hyper-sensitive. And, please don’t take it for granted. Remember, to have a baby, without any complications, is truly a miracle!  Every day of nausea, every uncomfortable moment, is not an inconvenience, it is a gift. You were given life―allowed the incredible, indescribable chance to bring a child into the world. Not everyone gets to have this experience―even those who want nothing more or nothing else. Please be nothing but thankful.

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. 

Transparent Moment--A letter to my boys

Dear Kadyn and Kai,

I always intended to write you each letters when I was pregnant, but those months flew by. I thought "maybe on your first birthdays," but those too have come and all too quickly gone. So, here I sit, no momentous milestone sparking the urge, but having an urge just the same. And maybe that's for the better; without a momentous milestone, you can understand how heartfelt this is.

When I was pregnant with both of you I would spend hours wondering what you were going to look like, smell like, feel like. I wondered what it would be like to hold you, to hear you cry, to see you smile. I spent hours wondering about the personalities you would develop, and the men that in a blink you'd become. I spent hours praying for you, for your friends, for your teachers, for each of your wives. The pictures that formed in my head during those 9 months were just bold outlines in a coloring book waiting to be filled in.

Of course I had/have many hopes and dreams for you. I had hoped you would never have to experience how harsh this world can be. But alas, Kadyn, you've already begun to experience that first hand at your preschool. I had hoped I would be a perfect mother to you, leading you, guiding you, but I've realized along the way that I'm not perfect, and that is okay. Nor do I expect perfection of you...just your best. I hope that you'll strive for your best every day, but not be too hard on yourselves on the days that doesn't come easily. I could go on and on...

But, the one thing that kept me from writing down all of my dreams and hopes for you was that I wanted you to create your own. I want you to fill in the pages of your coloring books with your own beautiful colors. Sure, I would love to influence what those are and become for you, but I also never want you to feel like you've failed me if you don't live up to my dreams for you. And yet, there is one thing that I feel a strong urge to convey. One thing that I hope you will always know, and always remember. One thing that I hope with all hope and pray with every prayer.

I hope you always know how much we love you.

Much of the world sees loves as:
A strong affection for one another arising out of kinship or personal ties; unselfish loyal and benevolent concern for the good of another.
Definition received here

But I would also like to include how God models love in 1 Cor 13:4-8a:
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but it rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.
Verse received here


Oh how I try to be patient. It can be so hard to be kind all the time. Sometimes I want to scream and cry out, and sometimes I do. And for this I am truly sorry.

Love is unconditional.

In my line of work I hear all too often "I love you, but..." I love you but you're driving me crazy. I love you but if you continue to do that we'll have to kick you out. I love you but I hate the way you're acting. I love you but I can't stand...

To your daddy and me, there are no buts to our love. We love you both equally and whole-heartedly. Nothing will ever change that no matter what. Please don't mistake this for an excuse to do whatever you want; there are always consequences for ill choices. We may not love some of the choices you will choose to make, but your choices do not have to define who you are. Nor will they define our love for YOU. Ill choices aside, you are you.

And I vow to always separate out my love for you and my dislike for your ill choices. I love you Kadyn. I love you Kai. That will never change.

So, instead of a but, I would rather think of it as "I love you and..." I love you and I always will. I love you and I hope that through the harshness of this world you can also find glimmers of beauty. I love you and I love you so much that I will establish boundaries and consequences. I love you and one day, when you're ready to launch I will release you, trusting that we've helped raise you in a way to know that you're leaving with your very best wings to soar with. I love you and there is nothing you can do that will make me love you any less. Nothing. I love you and even after you launch I will still be loving you the same as I did the day you were born, the same as I did the first time you said Mama, the same as I did the day you took your first steps, the same as I did/will your first day of school, the same as I will on the first day you...no, I take that back...I will love you even more because every day that goes by, my love grows exponentially for you both.

I love you my sweet boys, yesterday, today, tomorrow and forever...unconditionally. No buts.

Love,

Your Mom(my)

Readers: If you made it all the way through that letter, thank you.