You’re here and I don’t know how to feel about you yet. I used to get so happy for your arrival. It meant another year older and school would be beginning. You’ve always been the start of my new year and each time I would celebrate to no end. This year, I’m angry I’m nearing Jensen’s fourth “month-day” and he’s not with me. My arms literally ache and my heart is completely broken. Last year you brought me so happiness. I found out the best news of my whole entire life this time last year. You helped me welcome my precious son. I’ll never forget that day. All the happiness and joy the flooded my life. My dreams and hopes for the future were so bright. It all began with you.
A huge trigger in my experience with grief is the changing of the calendar. This is the fourth change and each my depression gets heavier. It’s the complex thought of time going forward when I want to be stuck way back five months ago. My mind seriously cannot fathom that it’s been this long since Jensen has been born. Plus, it’s not helpful when people think I should be “getting over” or not be depressed anymore. I’m grieving and trying my best everyday, it just sucks to begin another month. Especially August.
I’m being especially gentle with myself this month. We are honoring Jensen in a big way this first week, I can’t wait to share with you guys tomorrow. I get some very important pictures that I’ve been waiting for. Jensen will be four months old this Friday and I hope we’re able to go celebrate his big day. Logan, Anthony, and I are finally going to see blink-182. On the second Tuesday and Jensen’s eighteenth month in heaven. This month I’m going to a new support group and obviously will keep going to the ones I am now. During the middle of the month I hope to have a celebration day. I think it’s going to be a busy month, which I need so very much. It all leads up to the big day…
My twenty-third birthday, which happens to fall on a Tuesday. Of course. It’ll be Jensen’s twentieth week in heaven. I am not looking forward to my birthday. There’s only one thing I want for my birthday and I can’t have him. I don’t even think I’ll be able to get out of bed. How can I celebrate another year of my life when my baby can’t celebrate another day here on earth? What a difference a year makes. I was so excited to wake up on my birthday, test, then to see that positive sign. There’s nothing that can take that memory away. I wish I could go back and treasure that moment again. If I could, I would go back and throw confetti and then write down to get induced at thirty-seven weeks. I don’t know. I don’t want to think about getting older or celebrating anymore. All I want for my birthday is to survive.
Once you’re a mom, you don’t really think of anything else besides your children. I understand that there are times when you think about different things, but it’s mostly about your babies. It’s honestly no different when you lose a child. Jensen is constantly in my mind. When I think about my birthday, I think about how it would be so different if he were with us. It’s so much easier for me to think that than my reality of just feeling so alone. It hurts so bad. My heart aches when I think about these big days. On top of everything, August was always my kickoff to the holidays coming up. I can’t even imagine what state I’ll be in during those months. But I’m just going to survive and take each day as it comes. Days will become weeks, then weeks to months to years. I’m getting by and my new obstacle will be August.
Like each day, I will continue to do my best for Jensen. When we were planning Jensen’s funeral, I was asked, “How does a person eat an elephant?” I probably glared at him while I was thinking, why do I care about eating an elephant when I’m planning my son’s funeral. BUT the answer to that question has made sense through my grief: “One bite at a time.” It’s really been moment by moment during some days of grief. Instead of just seeing all this pain, I look at all the love i have for him. Each day I wake up and see what I can do for Jensen. Some days it’s just getting out of bed and others it’s getting out there and sharing his story. Either way, I’m taking it bite by bite.
When it comes to August, I have to acknowledge it being here. So hello August. As much as I don’t want you here, I hope you don’t come and go as fast as July. I hope for healthy ups and downs. Maybe they’re be more down days, but there could very well be amazing up days. I’ll prepare the best I can, but in grief it’s all unpredictable.
Even on the worst days, my love for my son will continuously be my anchor.