One minute I was pregnant—planning names and nursery colors. The next, a doctor was saying words I had never heard before: Transposition of the Great Arteries. TGA. A heart that wouldn’t work the way it was supposed to. A baby who might not make it without surgery. Open-heart surgery. At birth. 
The first hours feel unreal. You nod while your mind screams. You Google things you don’t understand yet. You wonder how your body can keep breathing when your world just stopped. The days after blur into ultrasounds, specialists, survival statistics, and the terrifying phrase “we’ll know more after birth.”
You grieve the pregnancy you thought you’d have—while still being deeply in love with the baby growing inside you. You learn how to be strong before you’re ready. You learn that joy and fear can live in the same breath.
Here’s what I wish people knew when families share news like this:
Please don’t say “everything happens for a reason.”
Please don’t minimize it with “at least they can fix it.”
Please don’t rush us to hope before we’ve had space to be scared.
Please don’t minimize it with “at least they can fix it.”
Please don’t rush us to hope before we’ve had space to be scared.
Instead, say:
“I’m here, even if I don’t know what to say.”
“How can I support you right now?”
“I’m here, even if I don’t know what to say.”
“How can I support you right now?”
And please—don’t disappear.
Don’t avoid us because you’re uncomfortable. Don’t treat us like fragile glass. And please don’t bring your research or stories about someone you know who “had the same thing and is totally fine now.” We know it comes from love—but early on, it can feel like our fear is being dismissed.
Don’t avoid us because you’re uncomfortable. Don’t treat us like fragile glass. And please don’t bring your research or stories about someone you know who “had the same thing and is totally fine now.” We know it comes from love—but early on, it can feel like our fear is being dismissed.
Let us lead. Yes, sometimes we want to talk about it. Sometimes we don’t. If we want to share details, we will. If we don’t, please don’t ask for specifics. Just keep showing up. Text us. Invite us like you normally would. That matters more than you realize 
Because while we’re carrying all of this, life doesn’t pause.
We still pack lunches. Get kids dressed. Read bedtime stories. We have to tell our other children something no parent ever wants to say—and then turn around and act normal so they still feel safe. We quietly prepare them for the unthinkable… while hoping with everything in us that it never comes.
We learn how to hold heartbreak in one hand and normalcy in the other.
We learn how to keep moving forward when everything in us wants to stop.
We learn how to keep moving forward when everything in us wants to stop.
This journey begins with devastation—but it’s also filled with courage, resilience, and a love that changes you forever 
We don’t need you to fix it.
We don’t need the perfect words.
We just need you to stay.
We don’t need the perfect words.
We just need you to stay.