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Peace, Love, and Rushing Around.

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I’m home!

It has been such a crazy week of vacation that I’m glad to be back to the peace that is my little house. Not writing for this whole time has been strange. I’ve felt all these words and emotions built up. I plan on expanding on some of them in the next few weeks, but today is a little catch up.

Tuesday has quickly snuck up on me this week as I figured it would. Thirty-seven whole weeks have passed since Jensen’s silence birth. Even though I had the past few days to relax, I woke up with great anxiety again. I’m missing him so very much. Walking into my house last night, I was glad, but my heart was so heavy knowing I wasn’t coming home to him. I wouldn’t be seeing his excited face as I went to pick him up after a week of not seeing him. Grief didn’t take a vacation as I did. I can’t say it welcomed me home, but it changed and felt different while I was gone and came back.

Today has felt even faster for me. I woke up late and had to start getting things done around the house. My mailbox was full of beautiful Christmas cards from other loss mamas, two new ornaments for Jensen and our tree, and of course bills. It was such a happy welcome home. Each card that was sent to me warmed my heart and the ornaments, they were so perfect. I kept thinking about their warm wishes and the comments and messages I received while I was gone. My tribe of mamas are always showing me they care and Jensen will forever be remembered.

Along with my vacation, I wanted to update you all with all the angel names I wrote on the beach. Well, my phone didn’t take the trip very well. Not to go into great detail, but I wrote all the names and took the pictures in the first few days. Then, all of a sudden, my phone had deleted ALL my pictures from December and eventually factory reset the last day. Frantically, I had my mom and dad help me with all the baby names. I wrote and wrote and wrote as my mom took the pictures and my dad checked them off the list. It was such a rush, but I am 99.9% sure I have all the names as I did before. The pictures are on my mom’s phone and I am going to download them tomorrow and hopefully will have everything on Jensen’s page by Friday.

With all the names, I am going to post about my experience with others while I wrote them. It was an interesting process and there were a lot of reactions from others. There was nobody that came and said they had lost their child, which I am thankful for. But there was a lot of people who went and said your children’s names out loud as they walked across the beach. I said them with them proudly each time. They were very taken care of and the waves washed their names peacefully away.

I just want to again, thank you all for trusting me with their names so I could write them along with Jensen’s.

Since there’s only five days left till Christmas, I wanted to share a very special ornament I received today. Especially since I’ve been slacking off on sharing all the ornaments I wanted to with you, I blame vacation. This ornament is from Lachlan’s mommy and my very best friend, Melissa.

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This beautiful blue and orange sparkly ornament has Jensen’s name on the front and 2016 on the back. It’s personalized just for him and holds so much meaning in my heart. Lachlan and Jensen were born just days apart in April. They should both be eight months old and getting spoiled during their first Christmas. I hate the way Melissa and I met, but I am so thankful for our friendship and to know Lachlan and his family. Friendship in the midst of grief is hard to come by, but here we are finding some kind hope and walking with each other in this unknown future.

Although I haven’t told Melissa yet, when I opened her Christmas care package today on Jensen’s thirty-seventh week in heaven, I broke down in tears. It’s not only an ornament for me to remember him by, it’s one that he would’ve absolutely loved. He would have been amazed that the blue and orange that decorates him room would be on our tree. I see it as a little present for my son, the first I have received for him during Christmas. My heart is truly touched.

Thank you, again, Melissa for this beautiful ornament. It will be one of my favorites to put up every single year. You have been such a great support system for me and I will never be able to thank you enough. Although I know we both would have rather this holiday season to be so much different, I’m glad we’re able to be here for each other.

Jensen Grey, I love you so very much. Happy thirty-seven weeks in heaven. You are the light of my life. Thank you for protecting your whole family through our travels and vacation. I felt your presence as I wrote your friends’ names on the beach. My mind let me know how much you loved playing on the beach and watching the waves come in and out. You give me more strength than I ever though possible.  I miss you. I love you.

Eight Months.

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I’ve been fumbling with my words all day.

When I woke up this morning I wanted to do his eight month post. Actually, I set my alarm clock early just so I would have enough time without feeling rushed to do it. All I could think was ‘Jensen is eight months old today,’ but I couldn’t let myself just write that. So, I fed Leo and Poe first. Then I found myself starting one thing, than another, and another. All of the sudden, it’s four o’clock and the whole entire day has passed me.

Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in denial still. My mind almost fully believes the past eight months has been a sick nightmare the universe has played on me. It believes all I need to do is walk into Jensen’s room and he’ll be napping in his crib so peacefully. I can so vividly see that moment when it plays out. There’s his toys in his basket and bottle on the coffee table. These scenes can play out for hours and there are times they do. It’s only when I walk into his empty room, I realize this silence and emptiness is my reality.

On each of his month days, I try to look at where I was in the previous few months. Around month three, I kept hearing that grief doesn’t get better or worse, it changes. There are times where I wish I could tell a newly bereaved mama that it’s going to get better and she’ll feel lighter at the point I am. Maybe I will one day? But, I can’t tell anyone I feel better. I smile and laugh more freely, but don’t feel guilty for doing so anymore. Crying in public doesn’t make me feel ashamed anymore. My biggest post lost fear isn’t being alone anymore. I don’t whisper the word stillbirth or about anything death related anymore. There isn’t any pressure to ‘get better’ anymore. I guess that means I am more comfortable with this type of motherhood.

If you can call those things ‘good’ then there’s also the bad. For me, this past month has brought a heavy onset of flashback and intense feelings. There isn’t much numbness left on most things. The numbness fading sucks. It’s like my life jacket has broken from the hard waves of grief and I have to learn how to keep swimming even when I’m tired. I’m also experiences heavy exhaustion and anxiety. Often I wonder if it’s because I’m in this part of my grief OR if it’s the upcoming holidays bothering me. Not even the holidays, but missing his first Christmas and making it as magical it could be for him. The more time has passed, the more I question and think about the what ifs. I think it’s because the physical reminders of Jensen on my body are going away.

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Speaking of the holidays and the what ifs of having Jensen, I kept looking at this ornament today. Although it may just look like a green and red J ornament to most people, they don’t know it’s back story. It’s Jensen’s first ornament. Last year, while he was learning how to kick really hard, I found two ‘J’ ornaments that I really loved. Mind you, this was after a full day of Christmas shopping. So, I picked up the first one and there was no reaction. When I picked this one up, Jensen gave me a huge kick and I knew this was the one. I can remember placing my hand on my belly and asking if he was sure. Of course then, he kept kicking until he wore himself out!

This year, it hangs perfectly on the Christmas tree. It’s the first one I see every morning when I walk out of my bedroom or into the house. The bright red J makes me smile and brings that memory to my mind. Jensen really loved Christmas time. I’m pretty sure it was the music and walking around everywhere. Last year was my favorite Christmas too. There was a mix of excitement and nervousness for the next Christmas. I can remember only wanting Jensen and his future being the best possible. There was never a doubt he wouldn’t be loved or cared for, but I worried that I wouldn’t be able to give him everything that he needed. I guess that’s what moms do though.

If I could tell a mom who’s just lost her baby one day or one month ago, I would tell her that she’s given her child everything she could. They were loved and cared for more than enough. I would tell her that even when all she can feel is anger and sadness, love will always be her constant.There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t tell Jensen I love him or acknowledge that feeling. Even when I’m shaking from all of the pain, it’s what grounds me. Love is the light Jensen leads me with each day. It wakens and warms me in the morning and brings me to a deep sleep every night.

I would also tell her, it’s okay to feel whatever you are feeling. The holidays are hard on top of how it’s already difficult to navigate through grief. Don’t be ashamed of your emotions, even if they are happy. You’re doing what’s best for you and that’s all you can ever ask from yourself.

Here we are month eight. I know you you’ll have a lot in store for me, just as it’s been since the month I found out I was pregnant with Jensen. As much as I’m terrified of you and what you hold, I’m going to survive you. I’m going to daydream about what he would be doing and make sure he can see his first Christmas in heaven. I’m going to do what I think Jensen would want me to do.

Happy eight months in heaven, Jensen Grey. Your blond curls must be so long by now. I can imagine you wanting to play in a winter wonderland, with Christmas lights all around. Your green and red J ornament sparkles in the tree next to me. Hopefully you have a matching one there with you. You are my light and hold all my love. I miss you. I love you.

Back to December.

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The month I’ve been actively avoiding has finally arrived and I’m terrified. I’ve honestly been putting off talking about how it’s here. It’s like if I don’t talk about it, then it’s not really here. It’s just hard. If December goes as quickly as November, I’ll be out of 2016. Out of the year Jensen was born in and into new waters. As hard as this past eight months has been, there was still so much love and happiness.

I just want to stay here forever, or at least on November thirtieth.

As we all know, December holds some pretty big events. We have Christmas, Advent, and the New Year. For me personally, I’m going on vacation, we found out big Jensen news this month, and it’s my first year decorating for the holidays. Jensen will also be apart of at least two Christmas ceremonies that I’m going to. They’ll definitely be sad, but I’m glad I can enjoy those events in remembering him with others. Most of all, it would be Jensen’s very first Christmas. There were so many things that I had planned for us and they just feel lost to me. Kind of like how I feel lost in December. The clash of grief and celebration should be ‘interesting’ to navigate. Such a horrible juxtaposition that no one should experience.

BUT, here I am. Although I’m doing this blindly, I am going to honor Jensen and this month in the best way I know possible. Starting with the Christmas tree.

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This month, I want to share certain ornaments on our tree and tell their meanings. There’s a lot of Jensen incorporated here, along with all Jensen’s friends gone too soon. I’m looking forward to telling you all about them.

I’m also planning something for my trip. We’re going to the beach in the middle of the month, but I want to bring Jensen and his friends with me. On Jensen’s Facebook page and probably on Instagram, I’m going to post to see if anyone would like to have their child’s name written on the beach. Hopefully I can get a lot of sunrise/sunset pictures to make it look beautiful! So, be on the lookout for that. I want to be able to just make an album on his page and tag people there. Or if you have loss mama friends, you can tag them on the post and on the picture when it’s up. Like I said before, I’ll talk about this more Monday or Tuesday.

With all that said, it’s going to be a pretty busy month. As always I love to share with you guys and keep you updated on this journey of loss and love. I’d also love for you guys to share some of your special ornaments or even your Christmas trees with me. It’s so nice to see how other’s honor their babies through grieving while trying to ‘celebrate.’

Just a reminder to everyone who’s having a hard time with the upcoming holidays. You’re NOT alone. Grieving through the holidays is so difficult to process. On the outside it looks like everyone is so excited for the big day, but you feel its eternal doom.

Feel how you need to feel. Cry, in front of everyone if you need to. Decorate or don’t. Recognize Christmas or any holiday you observe, or just act like it doesn’t exist. Do what you need to do to survive the holidays. There’s no right or wrong way. Let your heart lead you. No matter what, you’re not letting yourself, your family/friends, or your child down. They’re so proud that you’re surviving and doing the best you can.

If at anytime you need support, feel free to message me to talk or anything at all. I’m here for you just as I know you’re here for me.

A Letter to My Heart Thirty-Four Weeks Post Loss.

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Dear Heart,

I felt you cracking even more as I woke up this morning with my cheeks already wet from crying in my sleep. Quite honestly, I was shocked that you could still be beating after thirty-four weeks of constant heartbreak. Maybe I should have listened to you the second I woke up, but I pushed you to keep going. You’ve surprised me for all this time and today I was going to take charge of my emotions. I made myself feel logically with my brain and ignore you.

Your beats quicken as I rushed around before I left. Tears were still falling down, but I still didn’t want to listen to you. Heart, sometimes feelings have to go to the back burner. My life needs to be compartmentalized to be semi-normal. It seemed like every song on the way to the gym were sad songs. I didn’t think I’d be able to make it there through my sobs. But I did. When I got there, all I did was take a deep breath and continuing pushing on. That’s what has gotten me this far.

While working out, I didn’t feel you beating harder or even quicker. It’s like you had given up on me, like I had you. Somehow we both kept beating on, like old friends talking through a disagreement.

During therapy was the first time all day I realized how hurt you were. Words didn’t seem to come out of my mouth, but tears continued to fall. I hadn’t looked in the mirror all day, but the look in my therapist’s eyes told me all I needed. It was a look I had seen every time someone saw me in the beginning. Your brokenness had carried through my eyes. It even carried through the words I managed to utter out. She helped me recognize you were hurting even when I tried to hide it.

I want to feel like we’re healing together, but the Jensen-sized hole in you is so apparent. On the outside, I’ve gotten better with living with that hole. It’s hard living without him, I know you feel it too. But even after knowing how broken you felt today, I still kept pushing you to the side.

At home, in our safe place, I kept busy. I mindlessly washed, folded and organized my clothes. Your beats quickened more as thoughts crept in my mind. Visions of me reorganizing Jensen’s clothes as he would be getting bigger now. I’d probably be frustrated with the weather changing back and forth, not knowing what I would need to dress him in for the next day. Usually you and I would let these visions play out, but I stopped it. The closet is now color coded in it’s appropriate spot. I thought this would help calm you, knowing that one more thing that had been weighing on my mind was done.

Night spread across the sky and I know we’d have to be settling down. I made dinner and took care of the cats. There was music on in the background, as there always is. I know we both cannot take the silence, even at day two hundred and thirty-eight. You even eased as we danced and though of his rhythmic kicks. I even smiled and my eyes were finally dry. Everything seemed to be going okay.

Until that song played. The one we listened to when we first found out Jensen was growing. It was long before we first heard his heartbeat and we hadn’t heard it since his heart had stopped.

| I want to tell you
How much I love you
I’m drowning in a sea of love |

I knew I had to listen to you then. I couldn’t do anything else but that. The sobs were uncontrollable and even though everything else felt number, the edges of your broken pieces plunged deeper in my soul. Screams were stuck in the back of my throat, but I couldn’t let them go.

The shower helped. It let me feel like I was drowning as I sat in there, letting the hot water sting my back. I hugged my knees and listened to you. Oh heart, I miss him too. There isn’t a second that goes by where I push thinking of him aside, even though you’re the one that doesn’t get my attention. I sat there feeling that hole that you constantly feel. It’s an abyss of emotions and pain and love that demands to be felt. When you dive into it, you have to wait till it spits you back out.

After it spit us both out, I had to take care of you first. You’ve called out to me all day and I’ve ignored you. I’m so sorry for that, heart. If you hadn’t kept beating strong through your brokenness, I wouldn’t be here. We would be talking about Jensen and sharing him to anyone that’ll listen. So, I did what I knew helped string together some of your broken pieces.

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Truth be told, heart, I’m jealous of you at times. As much as Jensen loved the sound of my voice, your steady beating helped him fall asleep. You were the constant and comforting sound he heard at all times. I wish I could’ve sung to him twenty-four hours a day, but you cared for him in that way. You were one of the first and last things he ever heard. Sometimes I don’t care for you or listen enough to you enough as I should. We’re both learning this new life together.

I’m listening to you tonight, my steady companion.

All my love,

Danielle

Happy thirty-four weeks in heaven, my sweet love. I wish I could whisper in your ear how much I love you. With every beat of my heart, I miss you more than words could ever describe. You are the light in my life. You help me heal and are the one thing that makes my heart warm. I promise to take care of myself and be the best mommy I can be to you.

I miss you. I love you.

Avoiding Situations.

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Earlier this month, I talked about Reliving the Moment and how Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is common in moms who have experienced pregnancy/baby loss. In that post, I shared the four major symptoms of PTSD and my experience with the first one. Although right now my mind is blocking when I found out Jensen’s heart had stopped through the day he was born. Moments come flooding in my brain and I can only analyze those small bursts of time. Even though there’s no way to know when I’ll remember more about those two days, I find myself clinging on to the second symptom. For the ease of this conversation, here’s the list once more:

  1. Reliving the event.
  2. Avoiding situations that remind you of the event.
  3. Negative changes in beliefs and feelings.
  4. Feeling ‘keyed’ up or being on the lookout for danger.

When I first decided to talk about PTSD with you all, I didn’t even realize how much the holidays would go right along with the discussion. With Thanksgiving being my first, BIG holiday without Jensen, I didn’t know how I would handle the day or my emotions. Every day has been a test for me, but Thanksgiving and Christmas are really big days. They’re days where I’m supposed to be showing him off to the whole family and they let me know how big he’s getting. It’s the missing out on what his favorite holiday food would be, what his face would look like seeing the shiny ornaments on the tree, and so many countless things that these days bring with children…

As a loss mom, I have to weigh my emotions for family-get-togethers and other type of situations.

For the sake of not going on and on, I’m going to specifically talk about avoiding situations during this Thanksgiving. Maybe in the future I can touch on situations that directly remind me of the day Jensen was born. There’s so many ways this second symptom could go, but I think this is more relevant and timely for right now.

Going to Thanksgiving this year was hard. My family actually had two different ones, one that had all the kids and the other with just adults. Honestly, it was bittersweet to have. It’s nothing against my family, at all, but it sucks that Jensen wasn’t here. That he couldn’t be experiencing his first Thanksgiving with his whole family. I felt horrible, obviously I didn’t go to the first one. I avoided it, completely. There was no strength in me to go or even think about it. The whole night I would’ve pictured Jensen there and there and there. But like everyday since he’s been born, he isn’t physically here. There’s no silly smiles or trying to take all the food off the table. My brain puts it there, but it only makes his absence even more noticeable. I thought the second one would be better.

It wasn’t.

In the morning, I laid out my outfit and did everything I needed to around the house. As the clock kept getting closer to four, my anxiety kept getting stronger. Again, I felt myself wanting to avoid the situation and all the visions I thought I was going to have. Then when I told myself it was okay to have those thoughts, I was terrified to have everything come back to me. I didn’t want to go down the rabbit hole and that’s a really big possibility. My brain has been actively trying to remember those two days. I feel like if I give it a little room to explore my deep thoughts, it’ll play it all out. That scares me, especially because I don’t know if I’m ready for that.  So, logically what does a person do when they’re not ready to face something? They avoid it.

That’s what I did, for a few hours at least. Four came and went, and I still didn’t feel like leaving my bed. Jensen’s urn candle was on and I just kept watching it flicker, wondering what he would want me to do. I was still seeing him eating mashed potatoes and how he would look like at thirty-three weeks. Even sitting here in my room, I could see him dressed, ready to go, and watching me frantically get ready. I saw him in a denim shirt and khaki pants, with his white tennis shoes. Those images came so vividly even with me not at the dinner table. I avoided what I was afraid of for as long as I could. This type of situation of reliving the event, never goes away. I relive the days I was pregnant with Jensen, certain moments of his birth, and each day that he should be here.

When I got to my uncle’s house, I took a deep breath before I walked in. I kept playing with my Jensen bracelet as everyone greeted me. My arms felt empty, I kept thinking how I should be carrying him in his car seat. I’m not going to lie to you guys, it hurt. It felt like my chest was being crushed. This feeling overwhelms me and is usually present in my day-to-day life. Yet, I still made it to Thanksgiving dinner. A plate was given to me and I filled it up to eat. I sat, ate, and talked. There were moments I wanted to cry and there were moments I laughed. I kept wondering why I had avoided going over for those few hours and I wondered about my lifetime of avoiding these situations.

Losing a child brings a lifetime of hurting, dreaming, and avoiding. But with every step and day we continue on, we heal just a little bit at a time. I know how stressful the holidays are and how the PTSD can really hit. Even though I went to Thanksgiving dinner and have certain plans for December, it’s perfectly okay to avoid these days. Grieving is a learning process that we have to figure out each day. If one day you’re ready to face these challenges head on, do it. If the very next day, you just want to stay in bed and avoid everything, you have every right to do so.

You are not alone. These feelings are not strange or weird. Be gentle on your heart. I know how hard this is, just like I know you’re doing your very best.

 

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A little side note to this post…

I’d like to let everyone know that Poe made it home on Sunday. He’s lost a few pounds, but he’s safe and has no injuries. I am so thankful for my community, the positive thoughts that were coming my way, and that Jensen lead Poe back to his home.

 

Thirty-Three Weeks.

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There’s a point in everyone’s’ life where they have to decide what direction they want to go in. As much as everyone wants to keep moving forward, there’s always turns in the road. Whether you can ease into them or they’re sharp, you have to make that turn. Then there’s other times when you get lost, and have to turn around. It feels like your backtracking and nowhere near the right path.

Today it doesn’t even feel like I’m on the road. It feels like I’m pulled over and trying to figure out where I’m going  with a huge map on my hood. But at the moment, the map is incomplete.

I haven’t posted it on here, but this weekend Poe, my black cat, got outside and hasn’t come home. It’s triggered a lot of those beginning feelings of guilt, of losing Jensen and now Poe. I keep questioning what more I could have done and why does this season of grief keep getting darker? Sometimes I don’t feel like I deserve anything or that I’m the common denominator in all the negative things that have happened this past thirty-three weeks.

That probably sounds dramatic, but this day last year was completely opposite to today.

On this day last year, I was eagerly waiting for tomorrow. It would be the day I would find out Jensen was a little boy. I was so excited and it would paint a clearer picture of how the rest of our lives would go. As I look back now, I’m so jealous of me then. The road in front of me had unexpected turns, but I felt like I was going forward. There was no looking back. The little life inside of me kept encouraging me to go full speed ahead.

Since Jensen’s been born, I’ve kept saying over and over how love leads the way. Even when today makes me feel completely void of happiness and consumed with the frigid air, love touches and warms me. When I wonder why I should keep going on, I think of Jensen. I take a minute to breathe and look at this face. In it (when everyone would see his chubby cheeks, mama’s nose, and his little pout) I see my world. Even when it breaks me to know he was taken away from me, this motherly instinct keeps telling me to get back in the car and just drive.

To follow Jensen through all the turns and seasons.

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Taken by Mariah’s mama, Nicole, in Las Vegas.

For thirty-eight weeks, the roads on the map of my life were highlighted, then one day it all went black. With each step I take, the world around me becomes lit up again. I’m rediscovering and making a new map everyday. Love is my compass, even though sometimes it spins and spins and spins. There are streets without names, but I know I can always find my way back by looking for Jensen. It’s so hard to feel lost and wondering where the road is going to lead, but I’m still following it.

I’m still surviving. I’m still breathing. I’m still doing the very best I can.

Happy thirty-three weeks in heaven, Jensen. I hope you’re watching over Poe and making sure he’s safe wherever he is. Guide him, as you guide me, back home. Thank you for teaching me love and knowing it’s okay to pull over when I feel lost. You are my favorite person in all the universe. I miss you. I love you.

 

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Blank Insides.

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I’ve been a little MIA this week with writing. If you’ve followed along with my journey, I moved into my house exactly eight weeks after Jensen was born and posted about those challenges here. I purchased the house a few months before I got pregnant and it was a complete fixer-upper. We rushed to finish it before he arrived, which we probably wouldn’t have even if he was born at forty weeks. Anyways, the whole pregnancy I designed his nursery, the living room he’d take his first steps, and the mudroom where I’d be able to watch him from the backdoor window.

Well this week, I’ve been working on getting everything organized and decorated in my home office. It’s been a BIG task for me. There’s so many work papers, supplies, and moving all the furniture  that I’ve done mostly by myself (My mom has been a huge help for me!). During this time, I’ve found old pictures and notes I wrote to myself during high school. It’s been fun to go through and try to remember those moments. I’ve had bad memory loss since Jensen was born, so it made the gears turn in my head. Which is both good in bad. When some good flashbacks come, the bad also slide in there. I’ve been handling it quite well actually.

BUT, as I just said, with the good comes the bad.

Today, I hit a box that was filled around my final weeks of pregnancy. Only, I didn’t know it had all of these memories piled in it. At first, it was certain clothes I wore during that time. Then the movies and TV shows I had watched in the last two months. All made me smile because those were happy items that I shared with Jensen. They helped me with my swollen feet and I can remember the shirts I wore to rub my belly and talking to him. Seeing these made my heart flutter, but I had to keep pushing through. This room would never get done with this box unpacked.

I had this mentality until I pulled the next thing out.

It was a tiny, black box with a clear cover over it. Being a stationary lover, I knew it was a box of cards. I thought I had organized all of my cards and put them away. When I opened it up, cards fell out onto the floor. As I began to reach down to pick them up, I froze when I saw what they were.

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Unwritten, baby shower thank you cards.

I bought them only twenty-days before Jensen’s silent arrival and hadn’t had time to write them out for the baby shower guests. Those final weeks were full of preparing and organizing diapers, lotion, and clothes from my shower. I figured I’d add a picture of Jensen and his details when he was born to send them out to everyone.

These were supposed to be happy cards filled with love and good news. Jensen and I were supposed to be using all those beautiful gifts and showing off his cute outfits to everyone.

Just as those cards remained unwritten, those gifts are still being unused.

Triggers aren’t always seeing happy, healthy babies with their moms or a glowing pregnant woman when you’re out and about. They can come in a small, black box of unwritten thank you cards in the comforts of home. Both take your breath away, they unsettle your very soul.

Hemingway once wrote this six-letter story:

“For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”

People say it’s the saddest sentence they’ve ever read. I agree, it’s sad and it is hell to live through. Today, I can tell you that saddest words are the ones that were never written. The thank you’s that were never sent out.

Their blank insides will forever haunt me.

Six Ways to Honor Your Child this Thanksgiving.

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As Thanksgiving quickly approaches, there are a lot of anxious and sad feelings for loss parents. Many of us feel there isn’t much to be thankful for after losing our children. This results to a lot of people not participating in any previous holiday traditions and making their own. No matter what a person chooses, their decision should be welcomed with love and acceptance.

Although this is just a short list, I hope that it will allow me to feel Jensen’s presence and maybe help another mom and dad cope on Thanksgiving.

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Thanksgiving Day Craft or Graphic

When I was pregnant, I pinned a lot of crafts to do with Jensen on all of his first holidays. For Thanksgiving, I always planned on getting his footprint and making it into a turkey. It makes me sad that I can’t get Jensen’s seven month footprint for this craft, but I’m thankful to have his footprint from when he was born on my laptop. As much as I love free graphics offered in online support groups, I wanted it to be a little more personal. I was able to make a turkey with Jensen’s footprint using PowerPoint and some help from this website. It’s really adorable and I can’t wait to share it on Thanksgiving! (Maybe I’ll post a little sooner so you all can see.) Although you’ll see it then, it’s a clipart turkey with Jensen’s feet as feathers. Really personal and really cute. It’s important to me to still do all the crafts and things I had planned for his first year. Also, it’s a fun way to be creative and take your mind of things for a little bit. I’ll be looking forward to using that feature on PowerPoint to do more crafts for some upcoming holidays as well.

You could also do this craft with printing out their handprints or footprints and drawing/gluing feathers on the paper. There are no right or wrong ways with crafts and there are a ton of ideas on Pinterest.

Donate Food to a Local Food Bank or Food Drive in You Child’s Name

I imagined Jensen being a little gentleman and wanting to help. As I’ve said many times, I wanted him to volunteer his time and be able to help others in need. To honor a value I wanted to instill in my son, I’m going to donate food to the local boy scout food drive in his name, which is actually going on a few days before Thanksgiving. There are a lot of different food drivers going on this time of year and local food banks are always in need of food. So many people are not fortunate enough to be able to eat on Thanksgiving Day and how special would it be to give back in our child’s name. It brings happiness to the receiver, you, and your child’s memory. No matter how big or small your donation is, you’re able to help out at least one person. If you’d like to be able to include your child’s story, you can always add a graphic you did for Thanksgiving and put your story on the back. It’s just another way to talk about stillbirth, miscarriage, infant loss, and child loss in general.

Make Child’s Favorite Food for Thanksgiving Dinner

Thinking ahead to actually getting ready on Thanksgiving brings me a lot of anxiety. I’m not even sure if I’ll be brave enough to go to dinner. To bring Jensen in on the meal, I think it’d be really interesting to make one of his favorite foods. Whether that being macaroni and cheese or just drinking chocolate milk with dinner. It brings Jensen to the table and probably a lot of laughs with the crazy cravings a lot of us have during pregnancy. If you’ve lost an older child, you can make their favorite and talk about the times you made it for them. This idea can be carried out whether you’re going to a big family dinner or just having a small dinner with you and your partner (or for me, Leo and Poe). Also, it brings comfort. Speaking from my experience, whenever I’m feeling a little down I go and make chocolate milk. It reminds me of Jensen kicking and ends up making me smile. I feel like having that little part will bring that experience to everyone else as well.

I can imagine everyone drinking chocolate milk out of wine glasses during my family dinner. It’d definitely be a light moment.

Set an Empty Place Setting

My family doesn’t really have a formal Thanksgiving dinner, but I really like this idea. It actually shows to the people around us what we’re seeing in our minds. I know for me, I always am imagining what Jensen would be doing and although he’d probably just eat off my plate, he would still be there and eating with us all. This is very symbolic and I think like the previous idea, would be able to bring your child into everyone’s hearts that day. I know this one is kind of sad to think about that missing place setting, but it’s just another idea I liked and have heard about before. It’s really hard because it makes it ‘more real’ for everyone else. Just the image of loss is hard to grasp, but I think it would promote family members being supportive. This could also be a plate for all family members that are gone in case there are others that are grieving on this holiday.

Family Picture Including Your Child

Years ago, my family took a big family picture. Since then, there’s been more people to come into the family and obviously we’ve all grown. It’s nice to document those days, especially when everyone’s all together. After child loss, it’s hard to gather everyone when, again, we know there’s a huge part of our family missing. Our child can’t physically be there and have their picture taken, so it’s difficult for a loss mom and dad to want to take these pictures. But, I think it’s important to have them. If this is an option for you family, include your child in the ways you can. Whether it be their Molly bear, a framed picture, or any other remembrance item, include them in this. They’re present right there and I know it’s not the same as them being there, but they’re being remembered in that moment. It’s also another way to open conversation about how you’re doing on your grief journey and to talk about our children. We want them to be included on these big holidays and this one way to document it.

Plus, I love showing off Jensen bear. It would be the first time my family will feel Jensen’s weight. It’s special to be able to share that with everyone.

Start an “I’m Thankful For…” Conversation

Another challenging moment for loss parents on this THANKSgiving, is what we’re thankful for. Yes, I’m so thankful for Jensen and the thirty-eight weeks and two days I had with him, but he died. I mean there’s really no other way to explain. Other than the time and memories I have with him, I haven’t been thankful for much else this year. There’s little things like bluebirds and dancing flames, but it’s hard. I’ve heard it doesn’t really easier during the holidays years out as well. Yet, this is a moment we can honor them. Say out loud we’re thankful for our child and death cannot spoil everything. Death cannot take away the time we had with them and I’m thankful for that. Going along with the theme, this is a way to talk about our child without adding death and grief in, which lets our support people know we still are happy to talk about them. That it’s okay to talk about our children and there’s way more to their lives than death. It could be another way of talking about the community and the others ways you’re honoring your child during the holiday season. I think our families might surprise us and let us know that they’re thankful for our babies too.

I hope you’re able to use some of these ideas or come up with new traditions this Thanksgiving. If you do, please share with me. I’m always looking for ways to honor Jensen and survive the holidays without him.

I’d also just want to let you all know, if you’re feeling overwhelmed and need support this coming week (and anytime really!), that I’m here for you. We’re a strong community that are always supporting each other. Especially when we need it the most.

As much as I’m thankful for Jensen, I’m thankful for all of you too.

Happy Anniversary.

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Today is a very special day for my family.

Twenty-four years ago, two people declared their love, said their vows, and walked through the doors a young, married couple. Their love story began years before and even survived through a war. Their story was exciting and now they were going to embark on their biggest one yet. Nine short months later, they brought home a baby girl and then sixteen months after that, a baby boy. As their children grew, they were able to teach them what true love really looked like. Even through the ups and downs, they were there to support each other because true love never fails.

Everyday of each year they would make sure to give their children everything they could, but they also taught them something special every seventh of November. Their anniversary was always their big day. They could take those twenty-four hours and make it the best they could for each other. No matter how many Sweetest Days or Valentines Days they missed, their would always be presents on their anniversary. If not presents, little getaways where they could really focus on each other. This taught the children that love really is special and worth it once you have it.

If you haven’t guessed it yet, I’m of course speaking of my parents; Jensen’s grandma and grandpa.

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Last year for their anniversary, I gifted them with little football booties and a grandparents sign. It was the moment we could all freely talk about the little life growing inside of me with all of us knowing. Of course, mom and dad already had known, but Logan did not. I can just see the pure joy in their eyes when I recall that moment. The little football booties sat in their bookcase for the longest time (we had to put them up because of their puppy dog) and the sign is still there. Everything felt like it was on track, that life was going how it needed to be. I remember thinking of how Jensen and I were going to be able to make them their gift the next year.

From then to now, a lot has obviously changed with me, but their love has carried on.

I’m sure this year has been one of the hardest on them. With the mix of grieving their grandchild and not knowing how to help their daughter, it has to be complicated for them. They helped so much during my pregnancy with getting things for Jensen and helping me finish my house. Every time my dad would talk, Jensen would listen intently. He would kick then when he started talking he would stop then start back up again when my dad would finish. When he was born, mom and dad were there and they got to see and hold Jensen. They protected my heart, helped me plan his funeral, and have supported me through my grief and Anthony leaving. No matter how hard it has been for me, they’ve been right there.

There is no way I could thank my parents enough. My whole life, I’ve only ever known my parents being in love. Of course there were hard times, but love prevailed. It really helped me know what kind of relationship I wanted to strive for. They are able to lean on each other and support each other in parenthood. No only that, but as I just said, they’ve made me the person I am today. They both made me want to be the as amazing as they were to Jensen. I wanted to give him everything I could, just as they did. They are my mentors, role models, and most of all my loving parents.

This year was different from I thought it would be. They still were given a handmade gift from me and I even think Jensen put his little touch on there; a smudge that looked a lot like baby angel wings. Instead of holding Jensen, Jensen bear was held and loved on. We were able to talk about the past, the future, and of course Jensen. I wish he would’ve been there, stealing the show and in some ways he still does. There was the obvious missing piece, but there we were. Able to smile, cry, and celebrate their twenty-four years of marriage and all that comes with it.

Happy twenty-four years of marriage, Mom and Dad. You’ve given me the very best and I know how much Jensen loves you both.

In the Making of Grief Rituals.

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Another day, another spin-off Capture Your Grief.

Day nineteen is all about Grief Rituals on big days and how they help. Since I’m just now starting to get to the anniversary dates of certain doctors appointments and finding out Jensen was boy, I’m still learning about the rituals I want to create. I’m thinking about maybe coming back to this after his first birthday and talking about what helped with the first year. For now, I’m still learning what I need to cope and heal with these rituals. Life after loss is a huge learning process, as I’ve said countless of times. Which is why I’m in the making of grief rituals.

Some of the big days, right now, that I have to ‘focus’ on are his monthday, Tuesdays, and some of the anniversaries I have hit. My birthday was a really huge trigger day for me since last year we found out he was in my belly. There were also a few dates in September that triggered me, like the day I first saw him, the fourteenth or one of my first appointments was the ninth. Those days were rough, but I can imagine from next month out I’ll be really focusing on grief rituals and what helps me get through the days.

There’s also days that I never knew would become apart of my rituals like remembrance walks, support groups, and ceremonies for all babies gone too soon. Two weekends ago we participated in our very first remembrance walk, which I blogged about here. It really helped being surrounded with other families going through loss for me, but also my family. They were able to see and know this pain is real for many others. Last night we were so fortunate to be apart of another local walk and that’s what I want to talk about today, our new rituals in the making.

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Toland-Herzig Funeral Home, in Dover, Ohio, had its nineteenth annual Walk to Remember for child loss of any age.  I was able to be involved in this walk by other loss moms letting me know they put it on. It begins with someone in the loss community telling their story and how they help others during this tragedy. Being able to get up in a room full of people, not to mention being – for the other two rooms to hear, is so courageous. I know how hard it is to talk about losing Jensen to small groups of people, but then adding public speaking on top of it… I’d probably have a heart attack.

We then were prayed over and headed outside for the candlelit walk. There was the huge circle in the parking lot and then everyone helped light each other’s candles. It was beautiful and symbolic for me. Being able to help someone with their candle and passing light and love to the other person is up lifting. It’s sad to see how many people are in the circle effected by the loss of a child in some way or another, but how beautiful is it to be so supported.

Not to mention, my flame danced the whole way just as they do in my home. Jensen’s way of letting me know he’s close.

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When we got to Warther’s Museum, we were led to this beautifully lit gazebo. Unfortunately every picture I got of it was so blurry, so I can’t share how breathtaking it looked. Music was being played and we all huddled around, listening and remembering. I’m sure it only lasted moments, but besides the music playing, it was quiet. Not the quiet that I cannot stand when I’m home, but one that settles the soul.

There was another gentleman that shared his experience in hospice and read a poem. Then we were all asked to come to the microphone, share our name, number of walks, and who we were walking to remember. It’s different to actually hear family members share their experiences with the walk and about their loved ones. You can hear the emotions in their voice and their strength as they say their names so proudly. They said, this part of the night was the easiest and hardest… and it was. It’s a big mix of it. Easy as in listening and supporting the person as they share their deepest grief. Hard as in building up the courage to speak in front of everyone and letting that acceptance of your child’s death hit again.

Not that it ever goes away.

I was nervous, but happy to share a small part of our story. There is so much strength in just sharing him with the world and not feel judged. To say Jensen’s name makes me beam with pride. I hate death, but love my son more than anything else in this universe. That’s what makes a parent’s grief so complex.

After everyone who wanted to share finished, we started our journey back. Jensen’s candle extinguished in the moments after saying his name. Just as if he was telling me thank you and I love you. Many times I write to Jensen that I hope he is swaddled in love and warmth in heaven and last night, I felt that same way. With the circle of support, walking with the light of his love in front of me, and saying his name for the world to hear, I knew as we got in the car to leave, this would become one of my grief rituals.

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