This morning felt like any other day in October. Leaves are changing and falling outside and my house is starting to get more chilly. The birds still haven’t flown south and Jensen was instructing them to sing outside my window. I woke up with supporting messages from friends, family, and my favorite community, just as I had the previous thirty-one days. A smile crept on my face as I looked at the sun peaking through on Jensen’s framed face. Everything was steady.
Then, November hit me like a brick wall.
It might sound silly, but I didn’t realize the month was going to change so quickly. Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness was my focus for last month and I was caught up in all the prompts and posts that I didn’t even look ahead to November. Maybe because my mind has completely wanted to forget the next two months even exist. It hurts being in holiday season without Jensen. I’m not looking forward to Thanksgiving or Christmas, but on the other hand, I’m not trying to buildup the buildup for these big days. Which I’m sure doesn’t make sense, but usually the days right before and after holidays or anniversaries are worse than the actual day itself.
This month is also my seventh month without Jensen. Today is actually thirty weeks, which just seems impossible. At this point on the grief train, I’m smiling, laughing, and participating in life to the best of my ability. BUT, I cry every night, have major grief attacks, and am genuinely sad all the time. It’s probably a huge juxtaposition for everyone around me. One moment I’m crying and the next I’m laughing or I can be chatty for more than half the time then am completely silent having an anxiety attack. It’s confusing for them and it’s hard to process for me.
Before I go on, I’d like to define grief attack. It’s when grief suddenly and ferociously slaps you in the face with agony for however long it wants. They are hard to come out of and it’s sort of like a trigger, but these don’t necessarily come as a result of something else. I’m sure it’s been used before and has been defined, but this is my own little definition.
Back to before, I’m also coming up on some big doctor appointment anniversaries: we found out Jensen was a boy the Monday before Thanksgiving and I told my brother on my parent’s anniversary. Thinking back on those happy moments and knowing what happened as time passed hurts. Last year, happiness radiated off of me. I’m jealous of the innocence I never knew I had before it was lost…
So where am I getting at in all of this?
I’m going to take November as it comes. There will be good and bad days, each that I’ll do my best to embrace. During them, I will honor Jensen and his life as I promised him I would and have in the past thirty weeks. I’m going to be the best mom possible to him, that doesn’t change seven months after a baby is born. With that, even though Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month is over, I will keep advocating for him and his friends. For me every day is a chance I have to share Jensen’s story, show others I have survived stillbirth, and let other families know they’re not alone in any of this.
Although I have no expectations for this month, I do have some things planned. Each day I want to share one thing I’m grateful for, not always in blog form though. There are some posts I’ve been wanting to share with you all, that will be soon. I’m going to start planning a way to honor Jensen and all the babies during a trip I’m taking in December. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get that information out after Thanksgiving and there will be some response. So stay tuned to that. Plus, there is one big surprise that I’ll be getting this week. I can’t wait to show you all! That’s one thing I am looking forward to and have high expectations for.
After brushing myself off from running into that wall this morning, I’m going to try to appreciate this month. November will be what I make it and I know Jensen will be right here with me. I just wanted to say thank you all so much, again, for letting me share (almost) every day of October. It was such a supportive and needed month before this holiday season.
On this first day of thanks, I’m so thankful for Jensen.
Happy thirty weeks in heaven, my sweet love. I hope you were able to play in the leaves and make everyone around you smile, just as you’ve made me smile. You fill my whole day with warmth and light. I miss you. I love you.