I woke up today with the weight of the fifth.

It’s been twenty-one months and I wonder if I’ll ever skip this monthly routine and be able to breathe. Then I realized how scary that notion was and would much rather feel its pull on me.

When I was thinking of what to write today, my mind sort of blanked. The other day I read about how one mom wanted to stop writing about her grief so her friends and family stopped worrying about her mental state. I instantly thought if my loved ones questioned mine. This has brought me perplexed feelings, mixed with the usual struggle I face.

Is it so wrong to include him in my everyday life?

My parents and brother are away on vacation, so I’ve felt a little alone for the last two days. Not that I haven’t talked to other people or felt left out. I’m extremely close to my mom and dad and talk to them frequently throughout the day. They say his name and will listen to me talk about him, even if they’ve heard the same thing a million times before. I can’t describe how hard it is not to hear someone else say his name and with them gone I wondered if I would hear it today; when I really needed it…

As they soak up the sun, I’m braving the tundra to take care of their house and animals. Today, one of my tasks was sending out an Etsy order. My favorite woman who works at the post office was there and we struck up a conversation about our houses. I was describing how each room is painted and I got to Jensen’s room.

The only room that isn’t similar to the rest of my house is Jensen’s room. My son’s, who died. 

She did a good job. When I talk about death or say my son died so matter-of-factly, I usually get this shocked face. I don’t even mean to say it so coldly, I just wonder if people hear me talk about him and they just don’t ever think I bring him around. Maybe they do know he died and just don’t want to bring it up either. I mean, it’s not a conversation ice breaker: how are you feeling about your child that died almost two years ago? As well as she did, I criticized myself when I got to my car.

Did I say that just to hear his name or to talk about him with someone? Will the ‘he’s dead’ tagline ever stop? Do we ever really get over this whole awkward grief stage or can someone blossom into a confident grief? Is this even making sense?

When I finally got back home, my mom and I FaceTimed each other. She said she was thinking about Jensen today and my dad had wrote his name in the sand for me to have. They took a picture and sent it to me today. I asked her if she realized it was twenty-one months today and she didn’t.

It doesn’t feel like he’s been gone that long. 

I agree.

It feels like yesterday that I was planning for his arrival and was starting my twice a week ultrasounds appointments; not two years. Although his body is physically gone from this world, his spirit is always around. He is remembered by pictures and J’s, stories and chocolate milk, and most of all, when someone says his name.

I’ve decided, it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks. As I journey through life, I will continue to grieve the loss of my child. He will forever be apart of my story and I have no worries about how I live my life after loss.

My intention for today was to feel any emotion that came my way all the way through. No matter if it was anger, sadness, or even happiness. The days not over, but I’ve welcomed each emotion and let it wash over me; just as the waves washed over his name.