12.01.12 Parenting

Mourning My Pregnancy

Mourning My Pregnancy

BY Krishann Briscoe

Ever so often I rest my hand on my belly. It’s different now, wrinkly and soft, the remains of what once was the home of my children. Even at eight weeks postpartum I still find myself waking up, scanning my room for proof that all this is real, examining my body looking at the remains, which prove that, this really is happening. I did give birth to a baby.

I hated being pregnant. I felt for 39 weeks like my body tortured me. I had the most precious gift, a child, growing inside me and yet I was ridden with sickness and physical ailments on a daily basis. Being so sick it was hard to enjoy what was supposed to be such an exciting time in our lives. Knowing that I would never again experience carrying a child inside me, I wanted to savor each moment. Instead, I found myself praying that time would go by fast and it would all be over. I was ready to meet her, to hold her and to love her. I also wanted my body back.

To say I have never been so in love would be inaccurate. I have been. I am. I feel the same way about my littlest as I do about her big sister. She is here and for that I am forever grateful. She is my miracle. My children are my miracles. They are my gifts and each time they smile at me I thank God that he chose me to be their mother. And despite it not being a part of the plan, I rejoice in the fact that I was fortunate to birth another child into this world. And yet, in spite of all the joy I get from being able to hold her in my arms, a part of me is mourning the pregnancy that never was.

I think back to all the time I spent laying in bed sick, crying, because I felt like I couldn’t take it. I think of the weeks that went by with not so much as a belly photo or a blog post or written note to chronicle my pregnancy journey. I think of how much my world changed, how kind and compassionate everyone was. Strangers would stop and people were always smiling at me and overall the world seemed like a much kinder happier place. I made more friends during my pregnancy than any other time in my life.

I reflect on a time when my little one was all mine. I didn’t have to share her with anyone and I felt like I had more control. I could protect her and keep her safe. And then there is the bond that she and I share; a bond that first started when the inkling that I was pregnant came upon me.

At night I hold her and as she lays on my chest; I wonder if the sound of my heart beat gives her comfort the way I imagine it did just weeks before her arrival.

As crazy as it sounds, and as much as I wanted that time in my life to be over, a part of me mourns what was. As my babies get older and my time with them lessens, I can’t help but miss the time during which they were always with me. The time when it was just the two of us; a period of time in which we were never apart and they were so close that all I had to do was reach down and touch my belly.

I remind myself that while I didn’t have the ideal pregnancy, I did have the ideal outcome – my baby girl and therefore I am blessed. And so, I rejoice in an effort to focus on what is instead of what was.

Krishann Briscoe is a child welfare professional with a background in child and adolescent development and social work. She has found her passion in writing and hopes to one day be able to devote more time to doing what she loves.  She is a wife and a mother who is seeking to find more joy in her journey through life. You can find her blog at HisMrsHerMr.com.

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