Eleven Months.

Here’s a little secret about me that I don’t think I’ve shared with you all. Usually I don’t share because it makes me feel like a crazy person. Heck, I know grieving does a lot to a person, but I feel like this throws it over the edge.

I put on children’s shows and movies so Jensen can watch while I’m doing things around the house or when I leave. Last night and today has been all about the Magic School Bus.

Normally, I always have music or the television going because I can’t stand the silence. Then one day (it started around the holidays) I put on a cartoon because I wasn’t really watching, but I thought if Jensen was here and I needed to do dishes, this is what I would put on. For the past three or four months, this is become a part of my normal routine. If someone randomly stops over, I rush to the remote to turn it off so they don’t realize that I just have talking animals on.

It’s silly, but it helps.

The most common statement I hear loss moms say is they wish they know what their child would be doing at a certain age or during the day. Obviously, we all could imagine it. A Google search would tell me what Jensen would be learning and trying right now, but of course it’s not the same. Each child is an individual and has his or her own likes and dislikes, as well as a developmental schedule. So Jensen could be walking from chair to table back to chair or he could be looking at me like there’s no way in heck that I’m going to walk without your help. I don’t know that fact because he’s not here. But I can imagine and picture what he would be doing.

This is why I have children’s cartoons on. It would be something I could control with him and it brings something tangible I can have right now.

As I’m defending myself, I’m feeling like I’m an even bigger loon than before…

Anyways, in the past eleven months, I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that there is a lot of things that happen out of our control. Jensen dying was a horrible tragedy that no one could have prevented. That doesn’t mean I’ve come to terms with him dying or that it gives his death a reason. It doesn’t and it never will. Grief isn’t controllable. Trust me on that, I’ve tried to fight against it and it doesn’t help anyone. People’s idiotic comments are going to happen, unfortunately. Time isn’t stopping and it definitely doesn’t heal all wounds. There things (and more) are all out of our hands.

Yet, there’s another side to this ‘it happens out of our control’ fact; there are things we can control.

I can say his name, loudly and proudly, with no one holding me back. We control how we rise after the fall. I can continue breaking the silence around miscarriage, stillbirth, and child loss at any age just by continuing to share my experiences. When I hear inconsiderate comments, I know that another person doesn’t have this understanding. Although I might be angry with their comment, I’m the only person who dictates my reaction and feelings. (Admittedly I’m still working on this, but I know I can eventually be good at this.) With that, when grief has me down, I can choose to work with it to help be gentle on my heart. I can not be mad at myself or judge my actions while I’m grieving. And I can watch the Magic School Bus and picture Jensen chasing the cats around my living room.

This is my journey and yours is yours.

There is no right or wrong to this life we never imagined living. All we can do is be gentle on ourselves and support one another.

That’s what the last eleven months has taught me.


As I said in my last post, I’ve been vividly remembering this time last year and wanted to share this bump picture with you. He was so heavy in the last month. I can remember literally holding my belly and him with my arms while I walked. He was head down and always laid on my right side, butt right below my hips. I miss his weight and feeling him get comfortable. Sometimes at my expense, but I didn’t mind. There is never enough seconds you can spend with your child.

How I wish I just had one more.


Happy eleven months in heaven, baby Jensen. I wish you were physically here with me watching Magic School Bus and cuddled on my chest. We would have the curtains open and getting all the vitamin D our bodies needed. Of course you’d want to play and I would love to be chasing you around the house. Learning what you want to rip apart first. I wish I had the rest of my days with you. Keep sending me love and strength to keep going. I’m taking each of my steps for and with you. I miss you. I love you.

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