We learn our true strength
Not while anticipating,
but while reflecting.
This is a story about strength. Strength and grace. Strength and grace in the face of life's most unthinkable challenge. This is a story of inspiration.
Just before I became pregnant I celebrated the news of a friend's new pregnancy. She was surprised and delighted to be carrying a wonderful, miraculous gift. She shared with me her baby's developments over the next several months, and mused on the joys that were to come.
I soon discovered I was pregnant with my twin boys and thought how wonderful it would be to share our pregnancies. I knew we would both have much to learn as new mommies, but did not yet know just how much more learning I would be doing. My friend, similarly, had no sense yet of how much she would be teaching me. Perhaps until right now she still does not know.
I had not yet revealed my still new pregnancy to her when she went for her 20 week anatomy ultrasound. I looked forward to hearing about her experience and soaking in all the pregnant mommy excitement I could. When we sat down to talk, she was lacking the joy I had become used to seeing in her when we talked about her pregnancy. She quietly told me that she had to schedule follow ups with specialists. I swallowed my excitement and, not knowing quite what to say, let her continue.
It seemed that her baby was missing something. Something very important. Something she couldn't live without. She was missing half of her heart.
I held on tight to my words, my emotions, and my own secret cargo.
I would be one of the very few people my friend shared her story with as she navigated the rough waters ahead. She soon learned that her baby's diagnosis was Heterotaxy, asplenia heterotaxy. Her other organs also had abnormalities, if they were present at all. Doctors urged her to give the baby up now, to consider the financial and emotional burdens to come, and to prepare for the inevitable.
Most people in my position at the time, hearing every detail as I did, would have quickly agreed with these doctors. But most people would be looking at this situation from whatever pragmatic perch upon which they sat.
They would see test results.
They would see images.
They would see research.
They would see expert analysis and opinions.
They would see life expectancy.
I saw love.
I saw courage.
I saw strength.
I saw grace.
I saw a mother.
I saw a mother and her baby.
I saw this tragically beautiful scene unfold while I myself held so tightly to my own unborn children. And while I could understand the pragmatic perspective, I could not imagine doing anything other than what my friend resolved to do.
She resolved to fight. She resolved to try. She resolved to give her sweet baby a chance. Even if that chance was only 4%. She resolved to battle every emotional, financial, and social burden in order to give the life within her a chance at life outside her.
After being born one month early and enduring several weeks of surgeries and procedures, a sweet angel made her way back to heaven.
This week will mark the one year anniversary of her precious body leaving the physical world, but her imprint on it is indelible.
If ever we think we do not possess within us the strength to do the unthinkable, whatever that may be, think again. We do not know our true strength until it is tested, until we look back upon it, and until we allow it to become a part of us.
This is why I walk. Knowledge about heterotaxy is limited and obscure. Please help us find out more.
Join Our Journey: http://www.marchforbabies.org/ChiuBabies
Follow me on Instagram @merrymommyblog
Not while anticipating,
but while reflecting.
This is a story about strength. Strength and grace. Strength and grace in the face of life's most unthinkable challenge. This is a story of inspiration.
Just before I became pregnant I celebrated the news of a friend's new pregnancy. She was surprised and delighted to be carrying a wonderful, miraculous gift. She shared with me her baby's developments over the next several months, and mused on the joys that were to come.
I soon discovered I was pregnant with my twin boys and thought how wonderful it would be to share our pregnancies. I knew we would both have much to learn as new mommies, but did not yet know just how much more learning I would be doing. My friend, similarly, had no sense yet of how much she would be teaching me. Perhaps until right now she still does not know.
I had not yet revealed my still new pregnancy to her when she went for her 20 week anatomy ultrasound. I looked forward to hearing about her experience and soaking in all the pregnant mommy excitement I could. When we sat down to talk, she was lacking the joy I had become used to seeing in her when we talked about her pregnancy. She quietly told me that she had to schedule follow ups with specialists. I swallowed my excitement and, not knowing quite what to say, let her continue.
It seemed that her baby was missing something. Something very important. Something she couldn't live without. She was missing half of her heart.
I held on tight to my words, my emotions, and my own secret cargo.
I would be one of the very few people my friend shared her story with as she navigated the rough waters ahead. She soon learned that her baby's diagnosis was Heterotaxy, asplenia heterotaxy. Her other organs also had abnormalities, if they were present at all. Doctors urged her to give the baby up now, to consider the financial and emotional burdens to come, and to prepare for the inevitable.
Most people in my position at the time, hearing every detail as I did, would have quickly agreed with these doctors. But most people would be looking at this situation from whatever pragmatic perch upon which they sat.
They would see test results.
They would see images.
They would see research.
They would see expert analysis and opinions.
They would see life expectancy.
I saw love.
I saw courage.
I saw strength.
I saw grace.
I saw a mother.
I saw a mother and her baby.
I saw this tragically beautiful scene unfold while I myself held so tightly to my own unborn children. And while I could understand the pragmatic perspective, I could not imagine doing anything other than what my friend resolved to do.
She resolved to fight. She resolved to try. She resolved to give her sweet baby a chance. Even if that chance was only 4%. She resolved to battle every emotional, financial, and social burden in order to give the life within her a chance at life outside her.
After being born one month early and enduring several weeks of surgeries and procedures, a sweet angel made her way back to heaven.
This week will mark the one year anniversary of her precious body leaving the physical world, but her imprint on it is indelible.
If ever we think we do not possess within us the strength to do the unthinkable, whatever that may be, think again. We do not know our true strength until it is tested, until we look back upon it, and until we allow it to become a part of us.
This is why I walk. Knowledge about heterotaxy is limited and obscure. Please help us find out more.
Join Our Journey: http://www.marchforbabies.org/
Follow me on Instagram @merrymommyblog
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