Six months. Today, we celebrate six months of life. It’s your little brother’s half birthday. As I type this, he’s cuddled close to me, sucking on his pacifier, while his softie is nestled into his neck and lullabies lull him to sleep. It’s beautiful. But it stings. It’s bittersweet... I’m overcome with love for him and the joy he brings me to the point that I’m overwhelmed and brought to tears. His breaths fall heavily on my arm, while you remained so still. His little life, in my arms, because your life slipped through my hands. Death literally passed through me, so a new life could be planted. Could grow. Could resurrect from the darkness and bring to fruition a redemption I had not thought possible. There’s so much guilt. But there’s so much love. And grief, it still remains.
Read MoreWho am I now? How has this experience changed me? I hesitate to even call it an experience. It was and is so much more than that. It was stillbirth. It was losing a child. It is loss. And it is grief. But nonetheless, I am different.
Transformed, however, makes it seem as though I have come to the end of this difficult road. I am ever evolving. Ever changing. In each day, each moment, in each breath...I am transforming.
Read MoreI shut my eyes in hopes of dreaming of you. Of finding you. Of you finding me.
I see you in my mind’s eye, and I speak your name on my heart. It rests on my tongue in a quiet sigh. No sound comes out. It’s stifled. Unreleased.
I wrap my arms around my shoulders, clenching myself tightly. I envision the weight of your small body against mine. Leaning into me. Pressing against me. Delicate arms wrapped tightly around me with your tiny jaw embedded into the nape of my neck.
In the bed. Holding you. Holding me. I need you to hold me.
I miss you so much.
Read MoreThere’s a deep ache in me that permeates every fiber of my being. A longing. A stillness. A quiet. It’s incomplete and completely painful. It swallows me whole and consumes my existence. It’s presses hard and captures me. I’m suffocating.
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I guess I just don’t want people to assume that I am okay, that my husband is okay, that we are okay, or that our family is OKAY. Or to assume that a smile on my face means that I am “better.” That because I hold a babe in my arms, I am over not holding her. That because it’s been a year, life is back to “normal.” We are not fully functioning. We are just trying to make it through another day. Just as pregnancy after loss was unbearably brutal, parenting after loss has been a beast of its own. I look around and see all the ways our lives have unraveled over the past thirteen months. Life still seems so out of control.
Right now, I just need an escape.
An escape from this thing called life after loss; from this gray area of waiting.
Waiting for the pain to soften, for the memories to not break me in two, for the heaviness to lift.
I want a break.
Read More“It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.” (Rose Kennedy)
Read MoreWhere are you, my love? I cannot find you. Cannot feel you. You have left me. You are gone. Your life, departed from mine. A year ago yesterday, we had one another. One last day. Together.
Read MoreMay is here. And May hurts. Because May means you will be gone...forever...until we are reunited in heaven.
Read MoreLast night while nursing him, he gave a slight resemblance to you, and I remembered staring down at your face in the hospital room in such disbelief. No matter how much I willed you to breathe or to move, no matter how much I begged God to change the outcome, I couldn’t change a thing. I was completely powerless.
Read MoreMy anger hasn’t been lying dormant by any means, but recently it has been making its way to the surface in bouts of explosions and eruptions. And today is no different. Can I make excuses for myself?
Read MoreThat night, at mass, the message of surrender. Giving it all to God. Living with open hands. Wanting God more than anything. The story of Abraham, willing to sacrifice his son for love of God...I felt ashamed. Because in the midst of all of this, if I had a choice, if I could go back in time, if I could write this story’s ending...I wouldn’t choose loss. I wouldn’t choose your death. I wouldn’t choose sacrifice, or this cross, or this grief. I would choose to be your Mom this side of heaven. The words of our pastor carved into me, and I thought I might bleed out, but I didn’t want to release my emotions. I swallowed them down hard and pretended to be unbothered. I was convicted, but not convinced. I was divided.
Read MoreMy heart knows that if it is truly God’s will, then I may indeed lose again. And I’m struggling to live in a state of acceptance with that truth. Because right now, I want what I want to be what He wants. And I want to understand. To see the bigger picture. And how this journey ends.
Read MoreI am learning that your love is molding me and shaping me into someone new. That the old me is a discarded shell, and that’s simply okay. I’m learning that loving you came with a cost, but I would never change it.
Read MoreHow is it that you’ve been gone for as long as you were with me? From 38 weeks of growing you, to 38 weeks of life without you.
Time looks so differently.
Read MoreYou know me inside out. You know what I can’t comprehend or articulate.You know me. Let me know who I am. Let me know you.
Read More“O soul, steeped in darkness, do not despair. All is not yet lost. Come and confide in your God, Who is Love and Mercy.” (St. Faustina)
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