Cocoon

Robin’s first pregnancy was one of the happiest times of her life—and something she had been looking forward to since childhood. But when she was 41 weeks and 6 days pregnant, she found out that a lot of things can happen when babies are born.

In the aftermath of Robin’s pregnancy, she had a lot of work to do. Healing for herself, sensitivity to her husband and his trauma—and looking ahead to her future family. And that meant preparing to face another pregnancy, another childbirth where anything could happen.

When we meet someone like Robin, or hear of them, we often say, “I could never handle that. I could never survive something like she did.” But we all experience fear, anxiety, disappointment and when we hear these stories of people who have faced a huge loss, we generally come away with hope, and with love. Not only do we feel compassion for someone else’s struggle, but we can find strength and a starting point and someone to emulate in facing our own struggles.  

Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

What Can I Do To Help?

Robin’s Living With Kids Post on Design Mom

Valerie and I often talk about how, no matter when we talk to someone, we are always in the middle of their story. We continue to change and evolve and process and grow. Our priorities change, our circumstances change, our lives change. We adjust, we readjust, we find balance—and then we fall again. And begin again.

More than 4 years ago I wrote about what it was like trying to rebuild my life after a devastating miscarriage knocked me off my feet. I’ve revisited that essay and updated it to give an update on what feelslike a continual rebuilding and readjusting to a new life. It was inspired by Omid Safi’s poem “Other Worlds Await You.”

We’d love to hear about where you are in your story—where you came from, where you are going, what you’ve become on the way. Reach out on our website or social media. Hope to hear from you soon!

We all know that in family planning there is no “one size fits all,” there is no, “take this quiz and find out how many kids you should have!” There is not necessarily a magic number or a magic feeling. We knew that for many women the decision is just as much of an emotional decision as it is a rational one, that often spirituality and religion enter the picture, and that to even be having this conversation is a serious privilege—and at times a very weighty privilege.

So we talked to three women—one who is done have kids, one who undecided, and one who is open to having all the babies—about their experiences in childbearing. We talk about finances, spirituality, the culture of large families (and the culture as a whole), and all the things (silly and serious) that may weigh on our minds when thinking about babies.

We share these conversations with the hope that others (maybe even you!) can hear and discern what aspects of the decision are important to you and which are not. Maybe you’ll recognize some of your own hopes and thoughts and fears. But we also hope that you will make space for these women to have their own ideas and values and lives and that you wish them well on their own personal journeys.

Eighteen years ago, when Kelli was 24 weeks pregnant, she left work wondering if she had pushed herself too hard. She was feeling sick—something was wrong. By the end of the evening she would be rushed to the hospital and her baby would be delivered. At 24 weeks and 1 day, he was a micro-premie just barely on the living side of viability.

For the next 4 months, Kelli’s life revolved around the isolated and tenuous world of the NICU, where parents whose hopes and dreams had been brought up short watched and waited to see how their tiny babies would fare.

It was a lonely, scary time for Kelli. So much uncertainty, so few opportunities for connection. After Kelli and her baby emerged from the NICU, Kelli continued to grapple with the effects of that stressful time. As the years passed she built a program to help other parents of premies get the help and the support—mental, physical, emotional, social—that they need to get through the harrowing experience of preterm birth. From the depth of her experience, Kelli offers others a hand to hold.

Learn more about Kelli’s organization A Hand to Hold at handtohold.org.

When Kristy went into labor at 33 weeks gestation and had her baby via emergency c-section, it seemed like a series of small miracles took place. She and the baby would have the healthiest outcome in a scary, unpredictable situation. End of story.

But week after week, as Kristy and her family learned more about what had possibly caused her pre-term labor, it became clear how truly dire the situation was.

Over the course of the next year and a half, Kristy endured a physically and emotionally painful roller coaster ride that left her with scars and bruises—but also with some of the most beautiful perspectives and relationships that life has to offer.

Click here for Kristy’s GoFundMe account. 

It wasn’t too long after her mother died that Meg began to feel . . . tired. Maybe a little under the weather. Possibly depressed. But it was winter—cold and gray. She was grieving. And her life was hectic with house renovations. And then a more familiar nausea set in . . . .

For months Meg struggled to process this unexpected development in her life. But eventually, through moments big and small, the light started to shine through the fog she had been stuck in.

The “shining light” was Helen.

The relationship we have with our moms can be fraught and complicated. We must differentiate ourselves from our moms, but no matter what we do or who we become, they are always guides or shadows on our paths. We can never fully disentangle ourselves from their influence—and in the best case scenario, we probably would not want to.

Meg is her mother’s only daughter, her only child. She says she feels privileged to hold that position. But she also wondered if she did her duty as her only child, especially after Meg’s mom was diagnosed with cancer just a few months after Meg and her young family moved to a different state.

Meg and her mom have a strong and deep relationship that they maintained and even strengthened throughout the years that Meg’s mom was battling cancer and Meg was growing her family. And while there were many places along their path where their relationship could have diverged, they managed to stay close to each other—separate, but together.

Jill is, and was, a productive, contributing member of society. She has a master’s degree, she’s worked for several companies, and as a teacher she’s seen her students flourish. In 2012, she had friends, a community, a great apartment, and a pretty solid social circle of support—and she also had a mental illness. Jill suffers from fairly serious depression at times, but had always managed it well enough. That year, however, the bottom fell out.

In a few short months, she lost just about everything she’d worked so hard for and just as she was getting back on her feet she found herself pregnant—but in no position to be a mother.

Jill tells us how she went from lonely, depressed, and somewhat bitter, to having experienced the greatest love she’d ever felt in her life—and how she brought a little boy to a family that couldn’t get him on their own.

*In the episode we said that the legal agreement between Jill and the adoptive family is for her to see him twice a year. The agreement actually says she can see him 4 times a year.