Photo from sayinggoodbye.org. 

I want to write and share about my journey, where do I start?

Out of all the questions I get from other loss parents, this is the one that comes up most often.  As parents, we want our child’s name out there in the world and for them to be remembered. Sharing our experiences is a perfect way to do this.

Now, I’m not an expert, by any means. For me, I began blogging years ago. It was just me talking about my college years and what was going on in my life. Sometimes when I go back and read, I cringe at the topics that were so important then. Seriously, it was so bad, but it did teach me that sharing what is on my heart in mind was a good thing and how to work that particular blogging platform. When Jensen was born, I had so many words clogging my head that I knew I needed to get them out, so I turned to what was familiar.

But where to begin?

There’s a lot to say after loss, but I would suggest everyone to begin at one place: your story.

That might seem a little obvious, but reliving all those events is emotional. There are times I’ve told my story and I haven’t been able to get through without breaking down. It’s okay, this is ‘normal.’

Here’s the first time I shared Jensen’s story publicly: Jensen Grey’s Story.

Honestly, you can tell your pregnancy/birth story a million times and it will always be different. It seems like there are parts you remember that you didn’t before or a certain detail sticks out one time more than others. I’ve written Jensen’s story so many times and I always surprise myself with what comes out. This is a great way to introduce your baby and you as a parent to the entire world.

Of course, you don’t have to delve into certain areas of the story you don’t feel comfortable talking about. You may ease into the more you begin sharing. Just do whatever feels comfortable for you.

Let’s say you have your story ready to share, you go to click post, and then you freeze. Sometimes it just doesn’t feel right and you want to keep your child and their story to yourself. You might never get to a point where you’re comfortable to share, but you have their story all wrote out. It’s a huge accomplishment just to let some of the pressure out of your head. No one is pressuring you to tell your story and will be mad that you didn’t. Most people just want to support you.

If and when you do decide to share with the world, I’m happy for you.

Not only is writing healing for you, but it can help so many others through their journey. Your story is different from everyone else’s, but there will be similarities that help loss parents reach out and build connections. That’s what is so beautiful about this community.

It might be a one time post or it could grow into writing on a schedule. From there you can decide what to write about. Life after loss is a constant learning experience. Through it, your words may be able to give another a feeling of not being alone or some insight of what they can do if they find themselves in the same situation. No matter what, writing your story first will guide you in what you feel is best to do next.

Write your story. Share your child. Be proud of your motherhood (or fatherhood).

*If you have any other questions or would like to share your story, feel free to comment the link or write it out below.*

I read my son a bedtime story last night.

This particular book I bought after he was gone, well this week last year actually. The sentence pulled at my heartstrings, such as many books I have read in the past…

“Yes, Edgar, I’ll always love you… evermore.”

He’d be sixteen and a half months old now. That seems unbelievable. His day and nighttime routine should be set in stone, which includes me reading to him. Instead of him trying to help me turn the pages, I read and the rest of the house was silent. Besides my voice, the only other noise in the house was the pages turning. You would think I would get used to stillness, but it still makes me uncomfortable. I think it always will.

When I was pregnant with Jensen, I read to him every night. Then I would journal and write a Bible verse. Even the first couple weeks after he was born, I would get out the books he’d kick to and whisper their words so he could hear and no one would think I was crazy. Reading every night turned to only a few times a week to just on big days, like Christmas or his birthday. It got too hard. That sounds like a really weak excuse, but it’s true and the truth is always difficult to swallow. Instead, I kept writing at night, which turned into nightly letter writing. One day my collection of notebooks will be bigger than the amount of books Jensen had in his little library.

After I got done reading to him, I cried on the floor. (I seem to be doing this a lot lately.)

Earlier yesterday, I kept feeling like this was all a dream. It felt like I couldn’t connect back to almost two years ago when I found out he was in my belly. Sometimes I forget how his kicks feel or what it was like being pregnant. When that happens, I have to focus really hard to get them back. But that’s terrifying to me. Those are the only moments I had with him and I won’t get anymore.

I don’t have the words to explain how the aftermath of pregnancy and infant loss feels. There have been days I just go sit in his room and say his name. He was real. The absolute worst happened. It stopped me from all the future moments with him. 

I didn’t just lose a baby, I lost every second I was meant to spend with him. A person died, not an idea of one. 

August not only brings my birthday, it’s when I had my positive pregnancy test. The first month of the rest of my life. I wonder if my brain has been protecting me lately by not letting pregnancy memories flood my consciousness. The cycle of Jensen events will be in full swing in only a few days. I can feel the anxiety slowly building, I wonder if I’m strong enough to hold it all.  

Somehow I know I will be; I have so far. I have surprised myself with being able to stand back up again. Through all the pain and heartbreak I have encountered, I’m still pushing on. Forever tied to Jensen and the love that surrounds him, but also to the lessons loss has taught me. 

“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

The Great Gatsby

My parent’s TWENTY-FIFTH wedding anniversary is this November. There’s not too many people who can say they have been married for that long and I am so proud that they’re mine.

In honor of them, I’m planning on submitting their love story to the anniversary part of our local newspaper. Today, I made the effort on gathering pictures to choose to submit and answering the questions that they provide. They were all pretty basic ones and, admittedly I should have prepared myself before reading. There was the question, ‘how many grandchildren?’ My heart skipped a beat. I was staring at my mom and didn’t know what to put.

Yes, he deserved to be on there, but did she want him included. Should there be a little asterisk by his name? I just asked her because I needed to hear her say she wanted him on there, apart of their life story. ‘Of course,’ she proclaimed, like it was even a part to question.

I was happy to hear her say that and knew deep down she would, but what made me question what to put? His name deserves to be said and known, just as my mother deserves to be known as his grandmother. Why do I question why I deserve being his mother to the outside world?

A few days ago I read about a ‘30 Day Writing Challenge for Stillbirth Mothers.‘ I skimmed each prompt to think about if I wanted to join along, but didn’t know if I wanted to commit. When I got to the last one, it felt like the world stopped: 5 Reasons Why I Deserve To Be Your Mother. It’s been in my mind since and today’s newspaper/anniversary dilemma really made me consider why.

He is mine.

Obviously, right?

Half of every cell in his body was made of me. I read him a bedtime story every night and watched his personality grow, stubborn like me. When I look at myself in the mirror or down at my feet, I see him.

Carried his whole life.

For thirty-eight weeks and two days, he was surrounded by love and warmth. That’s his whole entire life.

Each day, I felt him get bigger and his kicks become stronger. As he grew, so did my belly. I have the stretch marks to show for him and I deserve to have them. No, I don’t have Jensen to show off, but I’ll forever have the time he was with me marked on myself for as long as I live.

I’ll always cherish his life and being pregnant with him, it’s his gift to me.

Love.

Love never dies and everyone deserves to be loved.

As much as I loved him, he loved me too. I’ll never forget hearing his heart beat for the first time as mine skipped. It was magical. Although, I’ll never hear him say ‘I love you’ or know what he loved about me most, I imagine he felt the same way about hearing the rhythmic drumming of my heart as he fell asleep.

This love has never ceased, his death didn’t stop the way I felt. It’s the one thing that has kept me afloat when all I could feel is grief taking me under.

Surviving loss.

On ‘good’ days, I feel like a warrior. I’m this all-powerful mother, that has faced her darkest days and still can find the light in life. Then there are the other days where I feel the only thing I can do is breathe.

I don’t deserve losing Jensen. No one deserves living life without their child. Yet, surviving life after loss makes me realize how much I thrived during my time with Jensen. I deserve to survive, just as I deserve him and being apart of his life.

I am deserving.

Loss can make a person feel like they’re a failure. It makes you question everything about yourself and what you did. In the early days, I would think he was taken away because I didn’t deserve him. That somehow getting pregnant with him was this huge, cosmic mistake and him dying and the pain I felt is what I really deserved.

This isn’t true.

It isn’t true for anyone of us who have experienced loss. We deserve our little ones, just as they deserved us. Each and every one of us are parents and death cannot take away that title. We have lived through the absolute worst tragedy anyone can and, although we don’t deserve living without them, we earned the right to love and honor our children.

That’s why he’ll always be included in our family, hopefully in my parent’s fiftieth wedding anniversary write-up.

I deserve to be Jensen’s mom, now and forever.