| 9 minute read |
I was a big, overdue baby, and my mom has never let me forget it. After enduring a heatwave and her 41st week of pregnancy, my mom finally delivered me via emergency C-section at a whopping 9lb, 8oz and 23 inches long.
Well, I should have predicted this would come back to bite me eventually. Here I was, three decades later, pregnant with my second child and feeling extra-extra-large. I had gained nearly 50 pounds during this pregnancy, and baby boy’s due date had come and gone with zero signs of action.
What had been action-packed was my pregnancy. Six months in, I broke my foot walking down our apartment stairs. A few weeks later, my incredible mother-in-law passed away. Fortunately, my husband flew ahead of us and made it to Kenya, his birthplace, in time to say goodbye. But then, to join him for the funeral, I had to pack our bags and somehow make it through a 24-hour flight across the ocean with my 3-year-old, my crutches, and my big belly in tow.
By the time we returned home together as a family, I felt strong. Navigating our grief together made us even more eager for the joy of our son’s arrival. And enduring these challenges left me feeling like anything was possible – even a VBAC.
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