Run, Kenley, Run

Saturday was my fourth time attending the Brianna Marie 5K. For those who don't know, Brianna Marie is the daughter of my friend Aran, who I had not met until the first year the 5K was held. Brianna died as a result of Fetal Hydrops, which is an abnormal accumulation of fluid in areas of the baby's body while in utero. Aran started the Brianna Marie Foundation after her daughter died to help raise money for awareness and research. She works closely with local doctors to help save the lives of babies affected by this condition. Brianna and I share the same birthday, and the first year of the race was also my first birthday without Kenley. Attending the 5K that first year gave me a sense of purpose for that day, and it has been a tradition ever since.


My first year, I attended but didn't participate because I was still healing from my C-section. The second year, I was pregnant with Piper and had just gotten over being sick, so I didn't walk because I didn't want to chance it. Last year and this year, I walked with Piper in her stroller. What I love about this 5K, besides its wonderful cause, is that friends of mine just automatically sign up to run it in honor of Kenley. I didn't really do a great deal of Facebook promotion regarding it this year, but still, my "regulars" were there - for the fourth year in a row. It really warmed my heart to know that I have people in my life who support me and remember my daughter. I never really had any doubt about this - but it's nice to actually see in action.


It was a good day for a race. The sun was shining and the temperature was warm. I did my best to keep a pretty good pace and finished with an 18 minute mile, which isn't too bad for walking with a toddler in a jogging stroller.

After everyone had finished the 5K, we released butterflies in honor of all the babies who are no longer with us.








My walking partner all ready to go.



Colleen, Susie, and Me after the race






My mother, the marathon runner, finished the race, and backtracked to take Piper's stroller from me so I could cross the finish line without it. She's pretty amazing.





My Little Ham





Releasing butterflies in honor of Kenley and all the other babies






Medal winners!



Confession time: The Brianna Marie 5K was the first step in a year long journey I am about to take. After the race, I headed over to Running Zone and forked over a kidney for a new pair of Asics. Once I got home, I pulled my brand new FitBit out of the package to charge and set up. Today, I strapped Piper back into her jogging stroller and took her for a two mile walk. I'm building up stamina. I'm researching the Galloway Method and am working on a good running playlist. In the beginning of July, I will scramble to get myself registered for my end goal. And on February 26, 2017, I will complete the Disney Princess Half Marathon for Kenley's fourth birthday, most likely in a Ninja-worthy tutu.




I have no delusions. I know this is going to be hard. I'm almost 38 years old. I'm an out of shape asthmatic. I have a toddler and a husband who works nights, and finding the time to torture myself with long distance running is only one of the many challenges I am going to face this year to meet my goal, but Kenley's Legacy is more than being a voice in the loss community. Kenley's Legacy is also about making me a better person - about making me stronger than I ever thought I could be. Three years ago, when she died, if you had told me this is where I would be, I would have never believed you. Three Years Ago Me would have been convinced that she would have been in a mental institution by now - or maybe even in a vase right next to Kenley. But I'm not. I'm here. I'm surviving. I'm creating a life where she isn't.




I am going to do this. For her. For me. For the sake of accomplishing something I never imagined I could.

I'll see you at the finish line.

 Run, Kenley, Run.

Blogiversary

Today, One Pink Balloon is three years old.  Three years ago today, I woke up, belly sore and heart broken, and decided to do what I had always done when my emotions were too tangled to think.  I started to write.  Today is the day I decided to take charge of my journey and make it my own.   Today is the day I refused to be beaten by grief.  Clearly, it has not been smooth sailing.   The seas at the beginning were angry and rough, and even now there are still days where I feel like I'm drowning.  But, I'm still here.  I'm still in this ocean, steering through this life as best as I can.  Today is the day I broke the silence for the very first time.  

At the beginning, this blog was created to help me sort through my emotions and try to make sense of the shattered pieces of my life.  I wrote to get my pain out, and my blog became my most important outlet.   Whatever was floating around in my head was filtered through my keyboard and onto this page.   I pride myself on the fact that every entry of this blog is 100% accurate and true.  If I had the words to say it, I said it here.   Even if I didn't have the words, I still tried.   I credit this blog as the main contributor to my healing.   

I am not one to give myself accolades, but I am very proud of what I have done with my little corner of the internet.   Not just with A Letter to My Doctor (which, by the way, has over 175,000 views with the video at just under 10,000), but with every post.   Every post I have written is every bit of my true self.  I have always wanted to be a writer, and this blog has helped me become one.   Of course it isn't the story I wanted to tell, but I have done my best to tell it in the most honest way possible.   

My hope is that people reading this blog - whether they've been here since the beginning, or backtracked through once they found me - have been given some sort of insight into what it's like to lose a baby to stillbirth.    I hope I have brought comfort to any other loss-mom reading this in knowing she is not alone, that her emotions are valid, and her baby is valued.   I hope I have brought awareness to those who need it and educated those in the dark.  I hope the stone I threw in three years ago is still creating ripples.  

So, I celebrate today.   I celebrate the day I refused to go silently into that good night - the day I took the first step towards healing - the day I decided to share this very personal and difficult journey with the world.   

Happy Blogiversary to One Pink Balloon.   The words are mine.   The legacy is hers.  

                                            

To Be or Not To Be

Words are important. No one knows this more than a writer. The words you choose are the architecture of your story. They create sweeping entrances with pristine marble columns or humble stone doorsteps strewn with grass and dirt. They build palaces and cottages, soft, rounded arches and angled concrete corners. Language is the structure of thought. Language shapes and changes how people see an idea. Words influence images. It's why politicians have speech writers to craft the exact sentence structure needed to convey the point they want to make. It's why classic books are able to stand the test of time. It's why you get nervous before an important conversation - because you know that what you want to say is only slightly more important than how you say it. Or, maybe it's the other way around.

Language Matters. It's why we've stopped using certain words in our society to prevent the spread of hate, ignorance, and destructive ideas. Language can minimize the marginalized or give power to the powerless. Language can be the difference between confirming someone's current ideaology and creating another one. Language is important when discussing race, gender, sexual orientation, religion...really anything near and dear to the human heart. Language matters. The words we choose are vital to the message we wish to convey.

You see these phrases on baby shower cards and invitations. You hear them in conversation. "Congratulations to the Mother-To-Be!" "Welcome Baby-To-Be!" The words "to be" seem innocuous enough, but when paired with the word "Mother" or "Baby", their impact becomes greater than you think. "To be" implies "not yet", and while the majority of people may think it's not a big deal to consider a pregnant woman "not yet" a mother, an entire community would emphatically disagree. (To be clear, I am not talking about what consitutes a baby. This is NOT a post about the definition of life, and do not interpret my words as being part of a larger agenda. I am talking about Motherhood, not personhood.) So, why are the words "To be" so important they warrant an entire blog post? Because they influence how Motherhood is interpreted and how mothers are seen in society.


"To Be" makes it seem like Motherhood isn't already happening, like it's something that won't happen until a squirming, crying child is laid in your arms. "To Be" creates an end goal, and sets the expectation that pregnancy results in babies. "To Be" minimizes the connection between mother and child by implying that connection is not strong enough to occur before birth. "To Be" says: I'm not a mother yet, but I will be once my baby is born. Feeling her move in my belly is not enough to make me her mother. Passing her nutrients and oxygen through my body is not enough to make me her mother. Carrying her for weeks upon weeks as she grows and develops is not enough to make me her mother. She has to be born. She has to cry and breathe and look up at me with her brand new eyes - and then - wham! - then I will be her mother. "To Be" cultivates a sense of failure in the Heartbroken Mother. That end goal was never met. We didn't actually get "to be" anything but broken.

Mothers of Loss already have to work so hard to be recognized as a mother. I wrote blog post after blog post after blog post detailing my love for Kenley and my agony over losing her. I wrote daily for six solid months, and three years later am still writing about her and championing on her behalf. Honestly, if I wasn't so vocal, would you really think of her as my child? If I told you of her death and never spoke about it again, would you remember her name? Would you still think of me as a mother of two? I have actually had someone recently ask me if I wanted to give Piper a sibling, and when I explained she already had one, I was met with the words, "Oh, that doesn't count." Doesn't count?? Why? Because I was only pregnant with her? Because she didn't actually live outside of my body? How can she not count? Because, I was only a Mother-To-Be.


Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will break my heart.

"To Be" reinforces the idea that mothers are mothers when their babies are born - and born alive. "To Be" is the reason so many women who ARE mothers don't feel like them, why so many women don't think they have earned the right to carry that title. Because of this, "To Be" creates an atmosphere that promotes silence after loss since no one seems to be able to wrap their brain around a Mother-To-Be who didn't get To Be.

A majority of the baby loss community's skin prickles when they see the words "To Be" attached to a baby shower card or hear them in reference to someone who is pregnant. We see it as a slap in the face to our Motherhood - to our children. At this point, the less empathetic reader may be thinking "Oh geez, you're so sensitive. Why should I tiptoe around your feelings? Why do I have to change the language I use because you don't like it?" Well, the fact is, you don't. However, we really should care how we make others feel. We should care about whether or not our words hurt another person. It's simple human decency. The people who snivel about having to worry about hurting someone else's feelings frankly make me sick inside. Why wouldn't you worry about that? Why wouldn't you care about how what you say can affect someone else?


Really, it's not just about the feelings of mothers who have lost children. It's about the entire approach to pregnancy and motherhood. We can't keep promoting the idea that motherhood begins when a baby is born. It's just not true. Motherhood begins when a woman decides she is a mother. For some women, it starts with two lines on a stick. For others, it starts when her bladder becomes a punching bag. Rarely - so very rarely - does it delay itself until a squirming baby is laid in her arms.

Clearly, I don't have such high aspirations as to think I can completely change the way our entire society speaks about pregnant mothers. But, I do know change happens one person at a time. It starts with one person making a decision to do something different. So, I ask for all of you reading this to do one simple thing. Stop promoting "To Be." Stop saying it. Stop buying cards or gifts with those words. (Alternatives are out there. I know because I buy them.) Use different language. Be purposeful with the words you do use. Your pregnant co-worker isn't a Mother-To-Be. She isn't carrying her Daughter-To-Be. They are mother and daughter now. Birth will not change that. Neither will death. When choosing your words, remember that mothers are mothers, regardless of whether their children are in their belly, in their arms, or in the stars. Motherhood is not the culmination of pregnancy. Motherhood doesn't begin when pregnancy ends - it simply continues.