I was 28 when I was surprised by the news I was pregnant. I was taken back by the news but I was also excited about being a Mom. Regardless of circumstances this little life growing inside of me was a gift and I was able to commit and become hopeful about raising him on my own. It was a time of firsts. Some I was prepared for and some not at all. One of the surprises was a sense of femininity that I did not recognize. I knew I was changing emotionally, truly feeling like a Mom but what I did not see until later was I was feeling feminine.
I had never felt feminine before. It saddens me as I type this that I still can recall so clearly how it felt to stumble into that feeling for the first time. If I am brutally honest, I still struggle with it. Yet being pregnant, having life growing inside of me as only a woman can do, I was solidly aware of my womanhood and femininity. It belonged to me. It felt very me. It was me. I was indeed feminine as I was growing life inside of me. It felt great, exciting almost. And then…
Then that dreadful night in the ER happened and along with the loss of my son came the loss of my newly discovered femininity. Not being able to do something a fifteen year old girl could do solidified that I was not feminine. My own body betrayed my son and me. It confirmed for me that I was not feminine. I should have known better than to believe I could do what other women (and girls) can do. All of that crashed at the same time. Thankfully, the grief was so overwhelming at the beginning, I had no option but to wallow in it and let it guide me. It crashed around me and burst within me and made itself my sole focus. Which was both a blessing and a curse. The blessing was I was able to heal as deeply as I was wounded. The curse was it left no room to explore the pain of losing my newly found femininity so that pain remained hidden until later, much later.
I had no man to remind me I was still feminine. I had no partner to let me know I was still desirable or wanted. I was neither. The silence created by the absence of those needed words made space for the voice of doubt and insecurity to grow in both frequency and volume. I was unable to keep hold of the feelings of being a woman and having beauty simply because I was a woman. So, not lonely had I lost my son, I lost a piece of myself that I only knew because he existed. And although, I sit here twenty years later, knowing full well I am a woman, feminine and beautiful, I was unable to do that for quite a while. I relied on outer voices to validate that, as someone stole it from me when I was very young.
It was not until I did the work myself that I was able to find a solid space inside of me that knew, and knows, how amazing I am and my femininity is only a small piece of that. When I was grieving at the depth that only a Mother could, it was clear I was a woman, a feminine, glorious woman with strengths, beauty and complexities. I was Kendall’s Mom and as I grew in the wonder of that, I reconnected with my feminine energy and the gift that it is part of me, not something anyone or anything could take from me.
Kendall’s too brief life woke a place inside of me that had been dormant. It had been scarred over and hidden from the world by pain and fear. Having him growing in life and love inside of me reawakened it and once the pain of his loss began to subside I was able to feel it and see it. I realized I needed the internal reminder not the outer validation. Loving Kendall and losing him broke me. Having to wander that grief completely solo forced me to walk back inward in a way that allowed me to heal far more than just the hole he left behind. And I am more grateful than I can express.
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