Category Archives: May We All Heal

May We All Heal | Sunshine

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You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey.

I can’t think of a better prompt for today. The day was beautiful with the sun shining bright and the birds singing their melodies. I felt Jensen all around me.

When I think about being pregnant with Jensen and just his whole being, I think of the sunshine. He was so lively and bright. Even though I was mostly pregnant with him during the winter, I was never cold. He brought a warmth to my heart and soul that wasn’t there before. The morning after he was born, the sun peaked in my room and tried to heal me the best it could. He will always be my sunshine, no matter what happens in the future.

I’m not sure if you’ve heard this before, but babies before loss are called sunshines. Babies who have passed are called angel babies. The grief is the storm. Babies after loss are called rainbows. Well not all the time and not for every person, but in general that’s what you hear. Even though I know Jensen is my angel, I really believe he’s my sunshine too. Having him was the brightest part of my life. It was the greatest high full of love. Yes, losing him was devastating, but he didn’t bring that pain. The loss of his life and not being able to see him grow and thrive like he should crushed me. I guess you can call it the storm, but Jensen never brought about anything bad.

It’s my hope that one day, people won’t be afraid to bring up babies who have passed because it’d make the mom or dad sad. They are our sunshines, our happiness, our children. They make us smile and we can feel their warmth even after they’re gone.

I also wanted to share this flower sent to me by Lily Katherine’s mom, Hannah. From sunshine grew this beautiful flower and our two sweet babies brought us together to form a friendship. Knowing Jensen’s remembered and remembering my sweet friends babies with them, let’s me know we’re all connected through this journey. 

Hannah, thank you so much for always remembering Jensen. It means the world to me. 

May We All Heal | Tears

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When I was younger, I thought a person cried because there was so much sadness or pain inside them, that the only way it could go out was through tears. Little Danielle believed all those emotions were tangible because that’s how we explain things to ourselves when we’re younger.

Honestly, I wasn’t too far off.

Tears are a physical representation of when a person is feeling sadness and/or pain and so much more. Your body cries as a defensive mechanism and to communicate to others that there’s something wrong.

When I say I’m in an immense amount of pain since losing Jensen, I’m not joking. My whole body hurts and my thoughts can be so negative and complex. With all those emotions trying to escape, I cry… a lot. There hasn’t been a single day since I heard those words that I haven’t cried. It could be one or two tears or it could be a sob-fest. It just depends on the day and the trigger.

I’ve cried going to get groceries, not caring who in the world saw me.

I’ve cried going out to dinner and telling the waiter not to worry about me.

I’ve cried in front of people I never thought I would.

I’ve cried driving down the highway and then feel bad that I was driving poorly.

I’ve cried telling Jensen’s story.

I’ve cried when people have asked how I was doing.

I’ve cried alone in my bed.

I’ve cried brushing my teeth.

And I’ve sobbed in the shower.

Here’s the thing I’ve learned about tears, they don’t show weakness. A lot of people have grown up hearing that projecting their feelings and being in pain is ‘bad.’ We’re told to suck it up and stop crying. Or there’s other people who try to make a person ‘feel better’ when they’re crying.

I’ve learned, it’s okay to cry in public and in front of the whole world. There’s battles people are facing every second of the day and getting those tears out releases a lot of what’s bottled inside. There is nothing weak about that.

There is strength in tears.

And that’s a good thing for me because I’ve cried enough to fill the oceans.

May We All Heal | Remember 

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Remember… how could I ever forget?

Everyday I wake up and you’re the first thought that pops in my mind. I am filled with all the mornings we spent together. Our routine was spent with me telling you how loved you are as I traced my hand over each of your kicks. We took those first minutes of the day to just sit in peace. Even to this day, I spend that time saying good morning and still telling you how much I love you.

When I look at myself, I can see what I gave to you. You have my hands and feet. My nose and cheeks. I wish I could have known the color of your eyes or the sound of your voice. But when I see those parts of me that you had, I remember what love created.

I’ll always remember what food you liked and what times you tolerated eating. Just like I’ll remember to lay on my left side so you could sleep soundly. Or the time we were painting in my bedroom. We had all the windows open and each time I reached up, I felt you stretching to help me out. My little home improver. There are countless moments and memories from our thirty-eight weeks that I will never forget.

There isn’t a time where I have to sit here and try to remember you. It’s just natural that you’re in my thoughts every second. No matter what happens in the future, you’ll always be thought of and honored. You are my first-born child. The little guy who made me a mom and showed me a love that is so big and powerful. There will never come a day where you aren’t remembered.

I love you, Jensen. Thank you for all the memories we spent together and the ones we have made since you’ve been physically gone. I will always hold you in my heart.

May We All Heal | Color

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Red. Orange. Yellow. Blue. Green. Indigo. Violet. 

To many people, colors are what you use to paint with and tools we use to describe the outside world. That’s what they were to me before having Jensen. Of course I liked black and grey, but They weren’t bright or anything meaningful. 

Jensen made every color seem brighter and more vivid. He taught me to see the world in a different light and perspective. It is a gift I will always cherish. 

After he was born, colors didn’t hold much meaning; really nothing did. Everything seemed bleak and all the vividness he taught me was so muted. Life was different now and that meant I viewed the world around me so differently. 

Until I moved into my house and walked into his nursery for the first time. My whole house is painted different shades of grey, besides his room. I built up enough courage to go in there and his two colors came back to me. 

Navy and orange. 

The first colors that flooded my mind when I find out Jensen was a boy. 

Mixed with grey and white, navy and orange decorate his room. 

They are the ones many family and friends first saw when they learned about Jensen. 

My weakness when going shopping. I own more navy and orange than what’s probably normal. 

The two colors that let me know Jensen is near. 

They are colors that instantly make me smile, even when I’m crying my eyes out. 

My newly adopted favorite colors. 

Jensen’s colors that he uses to paint the sky for me everyday. 

His colors can turn my day from horrible to great. In my mind, they’ll forever be Jensen’s colors and that’s why I love them so much. 

I’m thankful to start seeing colors more vividly again. He’s showing me the world as he does now through my healing by leaving me signs of navy and orange. 

May We All Heal | Wound

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It felt like every second that day tore through me.

There was no physical wounds on my body, but on the inside I was all cut up. My arms ached. The pit in my stomach burned. My eyes were so sore from crying and wiping my tears all the time. Then there was my heart. It was completely broken, more like shattered. My whole body felt like a wound needing tending to. Where would I even begin to start taking care of myself?

I realized my pain and suffering would take a lifetime of healing, but would always be there.

When I first jumped into to learning about grief and what happens about loss, I found a really interesting metaphor towards it. This type of loss and grief acts like a deep wound. It’s not a scrape on the top layer of the skin that heals quickly. Those cuts went far deeper, almost all the way through the other side. We all know wounds of that caliber never completely go away. To start the healing, it has to be cleaned out, then stitched back together.

Slowly the wound heals, like any other type. Sometimes stitches come out and you have to put yourself back together again. Heck, that even shows how much you want to try and heal. There’s been many times I’ve fallen. Afraid I’d never get back up again. But I know he wouldn’t want that for me. Jensen would want me to keep going, to be the best mom to him I can be. So, you do whatever you can to try and make it better. There will always be lasting effects from a deep would like this, but you grow stronger and live.

I still feel those cuts from that day. Some have grown a little smaller and others have gotten bigger.  No matter what though, I want to still write and to talk about him at any chance. This is what helps me heal my wounds.

This is what I’ll continue to do.

May We All Heal | Tree 

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I am like a tree.

Jagged and pointy on the inside. Trying to figure out what needs to go where and hoping it will all end up in the right place. Some branches grow thick and long. Others do the opposite. The inside is full of the ruggedness of grief. It’s dark, but trying to make everything right.

Blossoming and lively on the outside. Even when it doesn’t feel like it, I am healing. When I look in the mirror I see a more colorful face. I’m wanting to grow more and show everyone that even though it is madness on the inside, life and loss have made me grow into the person I am today.

Leaves falling to get rid of the negative. The bad comments or why I feel when someone forgets about Jensen. I try to let them fall away because they’re only in the way of other beautiful things.

Inside the trunk of the tree lays rings. When you inspect them, you can find thick and thin breaks between the lines. Each tells a story about how the tree was in certain years. My post loss trunk is small. It’s stretched thin from the neglect I’ve put on myself. I hope when I look back, I don’t criticize its thinness, but rather be happy that I made it that far.

But no matter how I grow thick lively rings or if a new branch comes to join me, Jensen is supporting me. Always. Like a tree needing help when it first is planted, that’s what he’s done for me; because it sure feels like I’ve been planted into a new life. A new world. He lets me know he’s there, cheering me on and sending his love. He is my son and one of the biggest parts of me. His life and impact is most definitely my favorite part of this crazy story called life.

May We All Heal | Listen

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Listen and you’ll hear Jensen’s name in the wind. 

Listen and you’ll know today’s day four-hundred of my grief journey. 

Listen and you’ll hear the fire crackling behind me. 

Listen and you’ll understand how healing the elements can be. 

Listen and you’ll hear my heart continuously trying to put itself back together. 

Listen and you’ll give a bereaved mother the gift of talking about their child. 

Listen and know how much this simple act can help another. 

Listen. 

May We All Heal | Possibility

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When I was first pregnant with Jensen, I knew there were thousands of possibilities before us. If I think about it now, I could list off hundreds of them that swirled in my mind the thirty-eight weeks we were together. I won’t list those off today, but as soon as I knew he was there, the seed of possibility was planted.

Of course I nurtured this seed and wanted it to grow so big that he’d be able to climb it and do whatever he wanted. That’s why the countless appointments and being poked by all the needles never mattered; this is what was best for him. I considered all the possible things that could happen during birth and the first year, besides the worst. The whole entire time, I could see our life blossoming just from that little seed and a whole bunch of love.

As quickly as they were planted, it felt like all the possibilities that had bloomed and thrived was pulled right out.

I can remember thinking nothing will ever be possible again. That no matter what happened, life was over after he died. Everything that I wanted for him would never be. There was a sea of nothingness that somehow grabbed me and made me feel like I was drowning. I never thought I’d be able to smile or laugh. It didn’t even seem possible that I would live through the next year. I was waiting for my heart to completely break and just give out on me. Sometimes I still think that. Anything’s possible right?

Then one day, I smiled and laughed. It didn’t feel right. Actually it felt like I was betraying my son who would never smile or laugh. I’m not sure I knew it then, but all the impossible things I thought about in those first weeks/months, suddenly became possible. One smile turned into two, then four, and so on. Somehow a whole year even passed and I actually celebrated Jensen being a year old.

I’m not saying my life is just as it was before, it’ll never be that way. A person is never the same after they have the one person who made dreams possible gone forever.

But I am saying, that the seed that was planted almost two years ago now didn’t get pulled out with everything else. It is still right there and has unknowingly been nourished through loss and grief. Jensen still makes me feel like my goals are still in reach. He’s the biggest motivator. Even though our possibilities are not the same as before, they’re still sprouting. They might not seem as beautiful, but they’re full of hope and love.

Some would say the future holds possibilities and I believe that’s true. No one knows what exactly is going to happen, but we know anything is possible. For me, in all this post loss craziness, Jensen has inspired me to keep my eyes and heart open. To not be afraid of doing anything just because I know he never will. With Jensen and the love that will always blossom in his name, encourages me to keep growing stronger and one day the impossible will come possible.

May We All Heal | Magic

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Magic was something I believed only to be in fairy tales and children’s stories. Of course I would always want to pretend unicorns existed and that maybe there were witches in Salem that got away. I even planned on reading all these magical journeys to Jensen. But, I knew a genie would never come out of a magic lamp or (unfortunately) Hogwarts never existed. That’s just not how the world works.

Or maybe, magic forms in other ways here on Earth.

I don’t know how else to explain how a little boy completely changed my world. It was by some chance that I got to be his mom. That I got to feel him grow and see my body change to provide him the best home. I know science can describe pregnancy and what comes along with it, but experiencing it firsthand is indescribable. It feels magical that this little baby is planted inside of you and with love is made into a little person with distinct facial expressions and emotions. All the while your hopes and dreams transform to want to do the best for your child. Just like the body transforms, your whole being does as well.

Maybe love is a form of magic.

Love really does feel magical. Being a mom is pure magic because there’s no love like one between a parent and their child. Jensen took this dull world and left his footprint on it, yet he never even took a step. To see how much my son can positively affect another person, means everything to me. The love I have for him and the every parent has for their children keeps the world turning.


That’s why I believe we can see love as a form of magic. But, I wish I could have used all the magic I felt when he was with me to let him live forever.

 

‘Be Gentle’ It’s Bereaved Mother’s Day.

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Today is a day I hold close to my heart; it’s Bereaved Mother’s Day.

Why not just celebrate on Mother’s Day? You may be thinking. And honestly, you have a point. Bereaved mothers want to seem like any other and Mother’s Day (before it was super commercialized) was started for a bereaved mom with living children too. So why have a special day like today, well, for me, you’d have to be in this situation to understand.

It is so hard to talk about a lot of what a bereaved mother goes through and thinks about every single day. Moms and other people how have not experienced loss, would probably look at us like we were crazy. Which brings up today and it’s meaning.

Earlier today, I went to a beautiful luncheon surrounded by mothers who have lost one or more children. Each of their stories breaks my heart and allows me to see healing in the years to come. They are all beautiful mothers touched by loss… and they understand. After the usual hi and hellos, we were really able to talk freely. We could say our children’s name and their stories. Then we could talk about our struggles through loss and what has helped us get through. They let me know that the pain never really goes away, but you get stronger. You’re able to carry the weight more gracefully, but there are some days that knock you right down to the ground. Days where it feels like you’re reliving the loss.

We could talk about the really deep, gritty thoughts that so many grieving mothers have. Then we could laugh and make light of topics that were never meant to be that way. They understood the differences in stories and made sure to let each other know that whatever had happened, we did the very best we could in those moments.

I felt so welcome.

That’s what Bereaved Mother’s Day is all about. It’s not an extra day to get attention or to show our differences as mothers. This day is to form camaraderie with each other and to know that through this journey, we are never alone. This day is for me and my tribe of warrior mamas.  It’s not a day where I expected others to text me or fuss over me. I felt so beautiful in being able to wake up and know I was able to talk about anything Jensen and grief related with people who understood. Driving to the luncheon, I felt Jensen all around me. He was cheering me on, wishing the very best for me. And believe me, it was a gentle day on my heart and soul.

Today’s May We All Prompt is ‘be gentle.’ I use this phrase a lot when speaking to other grieving mothers. Day can’t always be good and I’m horrible at faking it. There are days when I’m so mad at myself when I can’t stop crying and there are days were I feel so guilty for being able to laugh. Being gentle on your heart is perfect for Bereaved Mother’s Day. It means to be easy on your heart no matter what wave of emotion is coming to you.

We are doing the very best we can. We are honoring our children in all the ways know. We are beautiful mothers to angel babies.

I am here for you all. I love you and your babies so much.

Be gentle on your heart this coming week.