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embracing stories
When I learned I was pregnant, I experienced a mixed bag of emotions. At first, I felt deep anxiety and, to a certain extent, dejection. Just a year prior, I went through the most painful thing an expectant mother can experience: a miscarriage. That experience marked my life with such sadness and fear, making me wonder if I’d ever have the opportunity to become a mother or have to relive the same traumatic experience again. On the other hand my partner received the news with joy, enthusiasm, and optimism, while I was overcome with fear. I didn’t want to get my hopes up or get too attached to my baby in fear of suffering another devastating loss.
Each ultrasound brought a new moment of tension and dread; I cried frequently, afraid of receiving bad news. However, when I first heard his little heart beat, that noise filled me with so much positivity, a happiness that gradually began to cut against the fear. Even with these moments of joy, I still tempered my hopes and expectations. Those initial thoughts created so much guilt, with my involuntary rejection of this new life within me. That’s why, on many occasions, I asked my developing baby for forgiveness from the bottom of my heart, knowing that he didn’t deserve to carry my fears or my emotional wounds from the past.
During my pregnancy, I sometimes felt sad, even a little depressed. The fluctuating hormones, the changes within my body, both physical and emotional, and the demands of my studies and internships increased my stress levels. These extra difficulties from life made me feel even worse because I knew that all my negative emotions were also being experienced by my baby. I wanted so badly to change these negative emotions into peace and well-being for him.
In addition to the emotions, there were also physical changes that affected my mood. Watching my body transform wasn’t easy. I had never observed myself this way before: I noticed how some areas of my skin were darkening—my armpits, my groin, my nipples, my neck—and how breakouts and pimples were appearing on my face, chest, back, and shoulders. I can’t deny that I felt a little sick looking at myself like this, looking completely different from how I used to be. I understand that this only a temporary process and that pregnancy only lasts as long as it’s meant to.
That when my baby comes into the world, I will have the opportunity to rebuild myself, to be myself and to feel good about my body again. Despite all this, today I feel happy and anxious, eagerly awaiting the moment to hold him in my arms, to see his face, to touch him, to feel him close, and to shower him with love. The arrival of my baby fills me with immense joy, and I thank God that everything has gone well, that he is growing strong, healthy, and full of life.
Each ultrasound brought a new moment of tension and dread; I cried frequently, afraid of receiving bad news. However, when I first heard his little heart beat, that noise filled me with so much positivity, a happiness that gradually began to cut against the fear. Even with these moments of joy, I still tempered my hopes and expectations. Those initial thoughts created so much guilt, with my involuntary rejection of this new life within me. That’s why, on many occasions, I asked my developing baby for forgiveness from the bottom of my heart, knowing that he didn’t deserve to carry my fears or my emotional wounds from the past.
During my pregnancy, I sometimes felt sad, even a little depressed. The fluctuating hormones, the changes within my body, both physical and emotional, and the demands of my studies and internships increased my stress levels. These extra difficulties from life made me feel even worse because I knew that all my negative emotions were also being experienced by my baby. I wanted so badly to change these negative emotions into peace and well-being for him.
In addition to the emotions, there were also physical changes that affected my mood. Watching my body transform wasn’t easy. I had never observed myself this way before: I noticed how some areas of my skin were darkening—my armpits, my groin, my nipples, my neck—and how breakouts and pimples were appearing on my face, chest, back, and shoulders. I can’t deny that I felt a little sick looking at myself like this, looking completely different from how I used to be. I understand that this only a temporary process and that pregnancy only lasts as long as it’s meant to.
That when my baby comes into the world, I will have the opportunity to rebuild myself, to be myself and to feel good about my body again. Despite all this, today I feel happy and anxious, eagerly awaiting the moment to hold him in my arms, to see his face, to touch him, to feel him close, and to shower him with love. The arrival of my baby fills me with immense joy, and I thank God that everything has gone well, that he is growing strong, healthy, and full of life.
I never imagined I would lose a child at this stage in my life. It had never crossed my mind that I would face the greatest pain my heart could ever endure. After my son’s passing, I fell into a darkness so deep that I no longer wanted to live.
Luckily, I am blessed with two other beautiful children and the precious grandchildren my son left behind. However, even though I’m surrounded by their love and understanding, I could not escape the void that was created from losing my oldest son.
Almost a year ago, I traveled to welcome my newest grandson into the world. Since then, he has made me both laugh and cry, but this time, with joy. His pure innocence, the way his little eyes find mine, the way he wraps his tiny arms around me, each moment has begun to stitch together the pieces of my shattered heart.
Being his grandmother will never replace the love I carry for my son, but it has given me something just as precious: a reason to feel grateful for each breath, to be here and watch him grow. He is my medicine, my healing, my little piece of heaven. Today, he is my world.
Finding Myself Again – A Postpartum Journey
When I welcomed my second child in October 2025, I thought I was ready. I had prayed for this baby, and God, in His grace, answered my prayers. But as much as I felt gratitude, I also found myself in a place I hadn’t anticipated: overwhelmed, emotionally drained, and deeply alone.
This experience was very different from when I had my first daughter years ago in Gabon. Back then, I was surrounded by love and support, especially from my mother. Everything(from recovery to caring for a newborn)felt lighter because I was not carrying the weight alone.
This time, in the U.S., things were different. My husband, though physically present, seemed emotionally distant, almost disconnected from the new reality we were facing. I felt like he was continuing life as usual, while mine had been turned upside down. That hurt deeply. I was moody, unsure of myself, and at times, I cried quietly(in my heart, in silence)just to release the heaviness I was carrying.
What I was going through was more than exhaustion. It was postpartum depression. And it is real.
But I want to share not just the struggle, but also what helped me slowly find my way back to myself:
Letting go (“lâcher prise”) – I had to release the guilt and the pressure to be perfect. I allowed myself to feel and to be human.
Taking time for myself – I started prioritizing small moments just for me. Whether it was going out without the kids or simply sitting in silence, those breaks mattered.
Talking and asking for help – I learned not to keep everything inside. Speaking to others, sharing what I was feeling, and asking for support made a difference.
Connecting with friends – Spending time with people who made me laugh reminded me that I was more than a mom,I was still me.
To anyone reading this who might be silently struggling: You are not alone. Your feelings are valid. And most importantly, you will find your way again. one small act of self-kindness at a time.
I had dreamed of this moment my whole life, but living it surpassed anything I ever imagined. When my baby arrived, I knew—they were my answer, my gift. From that moment on, everything within me shifted: my priorities, my desires, even the way I saw the world. Becoming a mom didn’t just make me stronger—it made me more aware. I started noticing the little things I used to overlook: the tired yet love-filled eyes of other moms, the quiet acts of tenderness on the street, the silences that say everything.
From the moment I found out they were on the way, something inside me switched on. At first, it was a mix of excitement, fear, and a million questions. Watching my partner become a mother was like witnessing a kind of strength that words can’t really capture. I saw her go through pregnancy, birth, sleepless nights… with a kind of devotion that moved me to my core.
I changed too. Not just because of the new responsibilities, but because my heart grew. Suddenly, every decision, every minute, revolves around this tiny being—so fragile and yet so powerful. I realized that the most valuable time is the time I spend with them.
blissvinity © 2025 All rights reserved.
Mi esposo y yo anhelamos ser padres. Cuando nuestra hija nació, sentí que había conocido el amor más puro. Aunque viene consigo los momentos más retadoras, las trasnochadas. En mi caso una tristeza sin nombre, que me hacía llorar sin razón. Me culpaba por no sentirme plena después de tanto luchar por esto.Con ayuda profesional entendí que también tenía derecho a colapsar, a pedir ayuda, a descansar. Menos mal en el proceso tuve un compañero de vida único.
Cuando supe que estaba embarazada, estaba en los 20. No fue una noticia que mis padres celebraran. Durante semanas todo se sintió como una tormenta: decisiones por tomar, juicios de otros, miedo. Pero entre todo ese caos, una pequeña certeza crecía en mí: yo quería ser mamá. El posparto fue brutal. Lloraba de madrugada sin saber si era por cansancio o por no saber quién era yo ahora. Hubo días en los que sentí que me había roto… pero también empecé a descubrir una fuerza que no conocía.Decidí criar desde el amor, desde el respeto. Nunca repitiendo patrones que me dolieron. Mi hija es y será mi mayor aprendizaje de vida.
El día que conocí por primera vez a mi hija fue el mejor día de mi vida. No cabía de la felicidad. A las semanas tuve que volver al trabajo, uno que me mantiene más fuera que en casa, por los viajes constantes. Pasé dos meses disfrutando a mi hija por mediod e una pantalla, fue ahí donde me sentí decepcionado, no me sentía hombre exitoso, me sentía padre ausente. Empecé a replantear todo. Ahora gano menos, pero puedo verlo despertar.
La paternidad me enseñó que estar no siempre es estar cerca… y que estar cerca no tiene precio.
Ser madre significa muchas cosas… algunas hermosas, otras que simplemente esperan de ti.Cuando quedé embarazada de mi primer hijo, sentí una mezcla extraña: alegría, sí, pero también una presión inmensa.Las mujeres mayores de mi familia me rodearon con cuidados, consejos… y reglas. Que no podía hacer esto, ni comer aquello. Que no debía hablar de miedo ni dolor.
Cuando nació mi hijo, todos celebraron. Pero nadie habló del vacío que yo sentía.
No sabía si era normal llorar tanto, o sentir que me estaba desvaneciendo como mujer.
Tuve que pelear por momentos sola, porque decir “no me siento bien” a veces se ve como debilidad.
Pero decidí buscar apoyo, leer, hablar con otras madres, y poco a poco fui volviendo a mí.
Hoy, abrazo mi cultura, mi familia y sus ayudas pero también elijo con conciencia lo que quiero heredar a mi hijo.
Antes de ser madre, era la más independiente. Amaba mi trabajo, mis viajes, mi cuerpo. Después de parir, no reconocía a la mujer frente al espejo. Los primeros días creí que había perdido mi identidad. Pero poco a poco entendí que no la perdí: la estaba transformando. Ahora me veo distinta, más sensible. Y no es una pérdida, es otra versión de mí. Una que llora, pero también una que puede dormir con una oreja atenta y la otra en paz
Siempre soñé con ser mamá. Desde muy joven lo sentí en el corazón, como una vocación profunda. Mi mundo cambió por completo cuando llegó Guadalupe, después de haber vivido pérdidas que me quebraron el alma. Ella llegó como un regalo de Dios, como una promesa cumplida. Desde entonces, mi trabajo, mi tiempo y mi vida entera están dedicados a acompañarla, guiarla y aprender junto a ella. Ser su mamá es el mayor privilegio que he recibido.
