Cocoon

As a young single woman living in a punk house in LA, Sarah made an unusual choice: to become certified as a foster parent. Over the next few years Sarah welcomed young traumatized children and surly teenagers into her home and gave them all the love she had to give. Then, after days, or weeks, or months, she let them go. Sarah talks about what it is like to not know the end of the story, to know that maybe nothing is fixed, and how she sees her role as a foster mother in both the lives of the children she loves and the parents who are trying their best with what resources they have available.

Tysha was basically born wanting to have a family of her own, with as many children as she could handle. But she got a late start, and it seemed as though she might never reach the destination she'd had in her heart when she started.

For 17 years Jamie had hoped to have a baby but only experienced loss after loss after loss. Meanwhile, her cousin Bonnie was watching and waiting—knowing and hoping that she could offer a solution that would bring healing to both of them.

After a bit of difficulty trying to get pregnant with their third baby together, Kristin and David decided to pursue IVF. It was an experience that would stretch them and help Kristin find her own boundaries around her body.

David and Kristin got married in 2008 and after taking some time to adjust and blend their lives with their 3 children, they decided it was time to try to have a baby together. Before too long, they were parents of two daughters. And then . . . things started to drift.

When David was 30, he was a kindergarten teacher in a rough part of LA. He decided that, despite being a single man, there must be something he could do to relieve the suffering of a child in foster care and chose to pursue adoption for a child in need. It was the first step in creating a home that is a refuge for many different people with many different needs.

Amanda was at a crossroads in her life—a tricky transitional place between bearing children and moving beyond that—when a friend asked for some help finding someone who might be willing to be a surrogate for her. Amanda took some time to think about it and found that she could be that person. Over the course of the next year, Amanda took on a physical and emotional challenge that would not only result in a beautiful baby girl, but in strengthened friendships, greater peace as she closed her childbearing chapter, and (no surprise) the best sleep of her life.

Rebecca decided to pursue a career in medicine about the same time that she had her first baby. And it has always been an open question whether she could have both the family she dreamed of and the career she felt called to. Recently that question has been pressing on her with a little more urgency and she reached out to Lizzie, who happens to be a friend of hers, to talk about it. Lizzie thinks about these kinds of things a lot. The two of them talked about some of the hopes and hesitations that fuel our decisions regarding our families, about the difficulties of being a mother in the workplace, and about how things have changed for working mothers—at least since we've been paying attention. Questions that remain unanswered: can you have it all? Professional fulfillment and a house full of babies? Should you even try? Can you live with yourself if you don't? We don't really know the answers to anything, but sometimes it can help to talk it out with a friend.

Four and a half years ago, Jill stood on the sidewalk and watched as another family drove away with the little boy she had given birth to days before. While pregnant, she had been unemployed, depressed, and certain she could not care for a child the way he deserved to be cared for. But the experience did not quiet the yearning she had always felt to be a mom. If anything, it strengthened it. At first Jill set aside the feelings, but time passed and while her circumstances changed, her feelings didn't. She soon had a job, a relationship, and a medication that stabilized her mental health—and she wanted to try again to be a mom. And now, just a few years from that curbside goodbye, Jill's life has taken so many turns that you might think you had wandered into someone else's story. Click here for the first part of Jill's story: I Could Bring Him to His Family.

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!

Andrea Weaver’s family 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. Stephanie Robertson’s crew 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. Alanna Smith and her family. 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.

It’s often the long view of life that is the clearest. We know where we want to go, where we want to end up, but it’s the getting there that is difficult. If we are serious about what we want, we do whatever we can to stay on track. When Grace Poulsen was 28, she had just finished breastfeeding her 2nd daughter. Her husband, Dave, was working through his residency as an ophthalmologist. And their life in the Bronx, New York, was busy and mentally and physically taxing. And then she was diagnosed with breast cancer. The next year of their life became a mess of doctor appointments and cancer treatments—as well as a last minute attempt to preserve the Poulsen’s hope of having any more children. We talked with Grace and Dave about the cancer—which derailed their already very busy and stressful lives—about Grace’s art, her changed body, and about how they plan to get back on the path to where they always hoped to be.   You can see more of Grace’s art at gracepoulsen.com, and read about how the Poulsen’s managed cancer and kids here. 

When you are pregnant and on your way to becoming a mother there can be so many worries and wonders you have about what is going to happen to you—what is happening to you—and your family. Some of those worries are physical, but they can be mental, emotional, and spiritual as well. And who can you turn to to help you explore all those things you are facing as you enter this new chapter in your life?  It often seems like in our society, we are all anticipation of the baby and its health that we forget the impact the experience is having on the mother, the father, and even siblings and grandparents. In my experience, midwives can step into the breech. We talked to Barri Malek and Kristen Leonard, the home birth midwives who helped Lizzie through her pregnancies with her 3rd and 4th babies about why maternity care matters for everyone—in hospitals, at home, for mothers and fathers, and for our society as a whole.

In this week’s mini episode JoAnna reads her essay about her baby Levi, who, after being diagnosed with trisomy-13 at 18 weeks, beat the odds and was born alive at 35 weeks gestation. Levi may have lead a tiny and quiet life, but his existence was like a firework that bursts onto the scene leaving wonder and beauty in its wake. You can read the full text of the episode here.

Bente kept a journal when she was growing up in which she wrote that she would have 12 kids: 2 boys, then 2 girls, then 2 boys, and on and on. A couple of decades later we meet up with her and find that things went surprisingly well for her. Not only did she surpass her childhood expectations as far as number of children, she nailed her calling in life. Motherhood is where she feels most real, most fulfilled, and most whole. We talk with Bente about how she came to this decision, what the hardest parts have been, and what she expects from her children.

“At some point, every woman needs to make peace with her uterus.” So says Liz Ostler, who has known since she was a child that she would be a mother. It was the fact she based many of her life decisions around, the hope that caused her to hold on to flagging relationships . . . and the thing that made her—again, her own words—”a crazy person.” Here Liz, single and nearly 40, opens up about why motherhood was and is so important to her and how she did “the work” to loosen her grip on that hope. And while she acknowledges that the circumstances of life may not always align just right for every woman who wants to be a mom to be one, she also knows that there are ways to create and grow and build life even without giving birth.

Before Nicole even had a chance to take a pregnancy test, her body was reacting strongly to the baby that had just begun to develop. She had a severe case of pregnancy sickness called hyperemesis gravidarum—which is definitely NOT morning sickness—that left her feeling like a shell of a person for virtually her entire pregnancy. Actually, both of her pregnancies. Why some women get so severely sick during pregnancy is a mystery. Another mystery: why our society is so slow to recognize that someone as sick as Nicole was—no matter the cause—needs help and support. Nicole says she felt that because her sickness was caused by pregnancy, people were less sympathetic than they would have been for other types of incapacitating illness. In fact, in some ways it seems important to separate the illness from the pregnancy, and the pregnancy from the motherhood, because hyperemesis definitely messes with society’s ideals and expectations of what pregnancy should be. And those, like Nicole, who fall on the outside of those ideals are left out in the cold when it comes to talking about the joys of becoming a mom. Not only that, they are often unfairly asked to compare the hell of their sickness with the joy of having a child: “Wasn’t it worth it?” is a common question that really doesn’t have an answer. Although Nicole felt isolated and unsure of what was happening to her throughout her pregnancy, she did find helpful information through the website pregnancysicknesssupport.org.uk. She urges anyone who experiences severe illness while pregnant to check it out to find resources and support.

Today’s episode is an essay written and read by Lizzie Heiselt. It takes on the “all that matters is that you have a healthy baby” idea. For anyone who’s been told this, you know there’s not really a response to that. On some level, it’s true. Having a baby—let alone a healthy one—is something to be grateful for. But it doesn’t mean that sometimes there isn’t something to mourn, that there isn’t a sense of loss. And it doesn’t mean that we’re not entitled to feel those feelings. Lizzie takes one angle on that—gender, specifically—and, in conversation mentioned that it’s not exactly a “you get what you get and you don’t get upset” kind of situation . . . more like a “love the one you’re with” sort of deal. And of course you will love the one you’re with. Even as you mourn what might have been.

In the days after Gina gave birth to her stillborn son, James, she wrote a record of the event on her blog. It was a beginning of her mourning and rebuilding process and captures both the grief she was feeling at the time and the hope that she had that her life would be made better by James and her relationship with him—as brief as it was. (more…)

The full human experience includes this: pregnancy, birth, life, death. And if all goes well and normally, the pregnancy is 9 months, the birth takes a day or so, the life is decades long, and the death neither sneaks up nor hovers for too long. But the normal order is sometimes confused. The pregnancy is too short. The birthing process is unusually long. The death casts a shadow for months and even years. And sometimes, things happen in the wrong order. Death skips ahead and takes a life before it has even had a chance to be born. Gina tells us what it was like for her to be a mother in that situation, in having to say goodbye to her son before she really got to say hello. Spoiler alert: it’s pretty painful. Physically, emotionally, spiritually—lots of hurt all over. The interesting thing about Gina, however, is that she accepted that pain was part of the experience. Not something to hide from, not something to push away—something to notice and feel and walk with throughout her ordeal. Surprisingly—or maybe not—Gina found that pain and beauty, sorrow and joy, go hand in hand. Life is fuller when we embrace all the feelings it brings.

“Winter Fear” by Kay Ryan Is it just Winter or is this worse. Is this the year when outer damp obscures a deeper curse that spring can’t fix, when gears that turn the earth won’t shift the view when clouds won’t lift though all the skies go blue. There is an expectation with pregnancy that growing a life leads to glowing. The question, “How are you feeling?” is supposed to elicit maybe some talk about morning sickness, followed quickly by, “But we’re so excited.” The words “prenatal depression” are rarely heard, even in the rare case they are acknowledged by the expectant mom. Because if you don’t feel excited, well, then who are you? You’re could be one of the many, many women whose pregnancy experience—whose symptoms—include antenatal or prenatal depression, post-partum depression’s lesser known sister. It can be incredibly isolating to feel so sad at a time when you are expected to feel joy, to feel like the bleak midwinter has descended when everyone else is basking in sunny spring. It can feel like there is no space, no place for you and for your feelings. So when someone asks, “But honestly, how are you feeling?” be open to sharing, and hearing, an honest answer. In this episode we talk to a woman who, though excited about becoming a mom and enduring a difficult road to a healthy pregnancy, nonetheless found herself feeling that maybe every decision she had made to get this point was the wrong one. She walks us through her experience realizing that what she was feeling was serious, how she decided to get help, and how she—and Valerie—realized that maybe the best thing to do in this kind of situation is to tell people the truth when they ask how you are feeling. You may find yourself in good company.

Among her 5 children, Alanna Smith has had just about every type of childbirth experience you can have, and each one has left an impression and shaped her perspective. In episode 10 she shares the ups and downs of childbirth—and how, by the time she had her 4th baby, she found what she was looking for in a healthy birth. And it may not be what you expect. Her story includes frantic phone calls and late night pondering, lots of research and many prayers. There were difficult conversations and fights with doctors, and moments of insight and peace that sustained her through a controversial decision. Alanna’s experiences and conclusions are striking and full of hard-won wisdom. And they got us thinking about what it means to have a healthy childbirth. We often think of childbirth as a success if both mother and baby come through it alive and with a minimum amount of physical scarring. Forceps bruises will fade, C-section scars will heal. But there’s no accounting for emotional distress, feeling disrespected or ignored, or being demoralized. Obviously, childbirth is a fraught experience. It can be full of unexpected twists and turns. We can prepare as well as possible and still be blind-sided by our body’s or our baby’s unwillingness to cooperate. But still: is it enough just to come through it alive? Sometimes a C-section scar is inevitable—but what about mental and emotional scarring? How can women be better cared for during the extremely vulnerable time of childbirth? The idea that really stuck out, no matter what situation you are in, is to be unified with those who are helping you through what is possibly the most vulnerable experience of your life. But how can we help that goal along? We’d love to hear your birth stories and how you felt most supported and cared for.

In episode 8, Misty told us about how when she was 18, she was diagnosed with an auto-immune disease that made it a really bad idea for her to have biological children, and about the first few disappointments she and her husband went through as they pursued growing their family through adoption. In this episode Misty shares each of her children’s adoption stories—from the strength she witnessed in the birth mothers, to the harrowing moments when it looked like things might not work out, and the sad and joyful and confusing moments in between. And for those of us who are unfamiliar with adoption and don’t always know how to support adopting families, Misty points the way.

When she was 18 years old Misty Brough went from being a vibrant college freshman to being told that she was on the verge of death within a few hours. A year or so and many scans, surgeries, and treatments later, she was back at school, defying expectations and getting her life back on track. Then her doctor told her, “I don’t want you to bear children.” The risks and uncertainties—and the effects of the intense treatment she’d been through—made pregnancy a really, really bad idea. Adoption was her only option, so instead of going off birth control or having pelvic exams and hormone checks Misty’s path to motherhood started with paperwork, home studies, and background checks. And then the real work began. This is part 1 in a 2-part series on Misty and Jordan Brough and how they adopted their children. Misty and Jordan are also the owners of Adoption Arts, where they partner with artists to create and sell adoption themed art.

You’re 17—young, in love, full of life and hope and possibility. And then you discover that you actually are growing a life, and it seems as though that love and hope and possibility fade away—or suddenly disappear. Gloria shares her experience finding her way through the betrayal, the heartbreak, and the early years of (very) young motherhood. And she talks about how she never wanted to make excuses for herself, but continued to work and build her life through it all. She also brings up important issues about the loneliness of being a teenage mom, about the need to suspend judgment and to extend charity, and to talk to young mothers not only about how they are feeling physically, but emotionally as well. They are so young, she says, so naive, and they may not yet know enough to realize how little they know.

It’s often the first thing we do for our babies when they emerge from our bodies: put them to our breasts and hope they know what to do. Sometimes it is that easy. And sometimes it’s not. Feeding your child is the most basic and fundamental way of caring for your baby. It speaks to issues like nutrition, bonding, and infant development—so it’s no wonder people get touchy, and pushy, about it. But breastfeeding also has to do with comfort, practicality, and, sometimes, doing the impossible. Scarlett and Brandilyn walk us through their experiences—one that was a living hell, while the other was just like heaven.

Two years ago, Suvi had a baby. He was her first and he was (and is) a beautiful, healthy boy, born from a healthy—but haunted—pregnancy. Many women experience fear during pregnancy: fear of pain, fear that something is wrong with the baby, even fear of death—their own or the baby’s. But not many women have actual first-hand experience with the realities of aternal mortality. Suvi does. And that experience brought her to a place where the cultural expectation of a glowing, happy, exclusively positive pregnancy just didn’t fit. She tells us about her fears, how she handled them, and what her experience has both cost her and given her.

Lots of us turn to writing when life gets tough. It’s a proven form of therapy and it let’s us understand and experience our emotions so that we can untangle them and—sometimes—make something beautiful with them. As Jodie was pregnant with Anna, and realizing that she was not going to be able to raise her, she wrote about her experience, her thoughts and her fears—and her love for Anna—in her journal. We share it with you and hope that it may help you find beauty and peace and hope even in the most difficult times.

You’re 20 weeks pregnant and it looks like something is wrong with the baby. How do you spend the rest of the pregnancy? Jodie and Adrian tell us how they handled a worst case scenario and came out of it feeling strengthened, loved, and grateful.

There is always hope that out of every difficult, painful experience, there is something good to be gained. Lizzie tells about her own losses and struggles and her hope that Cocoon Stories will help her—and others—find a silver lining. Listen in iTunes here.

Annie and Ben Howington share their experience of helping their daughter fight childhood cancer—and what it did to their family. We all have unexpected situations that come up in our lives—things that could change our plans and our goals forever. Maybe they do, and maybe they don’t, but we can choose how we respond and how much we let our circumstances shape our lives and our future. That’s what we learn from Annie and Ben. Listen in iTunes here.

Our first episode features Mary Jane Callister telling us how she’s handled two things that are both so common and yet so personal to so many women: the challenge of getting pregnant and starting a family, and the challenge of balancing your various passions once you become a mom. The struggle is real. We’d love to hear how you working to find balance in your own life—how you balance motherhood with your other passions. p.s. You can see some of Mary Jane’s work here. p.p.s. You can listen in iTunes here.