Nine months. That is how long it’s been since I held my dead baby in my arms. That is how long it’s been since I had to say goodbye. I feel it’s as good of time as any to reflect on the journey and where I am now.
The early days were awful. The first month or two was excruciating, exhausting, and indescribable to anyone who has not experienced child loss. My kids walked through the trenches with me. They made space for my grief. They hugged me and provided me with words of encouragement. They looked on as they saw a woman who they thought was strong crumble before their eyes. A four-year-old should never have to hold his mother while she is laying on the floor sobbing. But mine did. I leaned on my God to carry me through, and he delivered.
As time went on, I was able to put on a fake smile and pretend I was coping well. People stopped avoiding me and life looked normal from the outside. I then realized the world was moving on without me. No one checked in anymore. I was standing still in my grief, and no one cared. My son was an event of the past. The tiny coffin was sad, but the world keeps turning. When is she going to stop talking about her dead baby?
Then, my grandma died. Everything fell apart. My mother had lost her mom. She was broken but doing what she always does in pretending she’s got everything together. My grandpa lost the love of his life and was essentially a puddle of goo. Wouldn’t you be? I compartmentalized in an attempt to support others. I also don’t think my heart was ready to handle it.
I saw a need for others who were grieving. I knew I wasn’t the only one. I knew I wasn’t the only one who felt like they were walking alone. I got vocal. Using this blog and social media such as YouTube and Instagram I began to tell my story. This was incredibly helpful to me as I not only was able to talk about things that were on my heart, but I have connected with others who were hurting in silence.
Nine months later, I still hurt every day. Some days are easier than others. I focus on my family and the gifts God has given me to enjoy. Nine months later, I wait for a headstone. Nine months later, I look for ways to honor my son and include him in our lives. Nine months later, I still grieve. I will always grieve. I will grow around my grief. It will change, emotions will ebb and flow. That is life now and that is what life will always be. I have changed. The person I was is no more.
Death has changed me. I stared into the face of it and held it in my arms. It is now woven into the fabric of my life. I treasure the moments more. I GET IT. I have recently taken off the mask of what I once was. I really don’t care what anyone thinks of me anymore. I live to please the Lord not men. I am not a perfect woman. I don’t always make the right choices. Sometimes I may do or say things that aren’t pleasing to everyone. I’m tired of editing myself. If you don’t like my authenticity, you can move along.
Nine months later, I am moving forward. I will continue to move forward, but I will never move on.
