Tag Archives: grieving

Six Ways to Honor Your Child this Thanksgiving.

Posted on by
11

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.

6 Ways to Honor Your Child on Thanksgiving.png

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.

Saved by a Bluebird.

Posted on by
Reply

 

A bluebird saved me this week.

Which makes me smile because I can just imagine a huge bluebird holding me while it’s flying to safety. The moment was as dramatic as that image, but you get the point.

For the past two days, I’ve started writing at least twenty posts. All which were quickly deleted in the first two or three sentences. Nothing I write doesn’t seem worthy to share this week. These words that I write yell out for support, but another part of me doesn’t want them to be unanswered if I reach out. This self-doubt stems from the weeks after losing Jensen. Doubting everything I did during my time with him and how my emotions were making me feel crazy. I remember asking him for a sign to let me know he was okay and always with me. Then I saw the red and blue bird.

I still felt crazy in grief, but it did let me know he was close.

November has put this craziness and loneliness in my mind again. My whole body seems to be sinking in itself. Thankfully Jensen bear’s weight draws me to the outside world. There’s been moments this week I’ve wanted to throw out my phone, get sleeping pills, and just sleep for days. I kept asking why again. I’ve questioned if Jensen knows I love him. I pleaded to him to give me a sign because I needed it so bad. Thinking back now, it seems selfish because I usually get little signs during the day. But I needed that familiar sign to save me from myself. To save me from doubt and questioning my whole entire existence.

That’s when the bluebird came.

It was hopping from limb to limb outside the mud room window. This bluebird’s blue was almost shiny and the sun kept hitting it just right. My eyes were completely drawn to it and as much as I wanted to get a picture of this  bird, it only stayed for a minute. There would have been no way for me to run and grab my phone to capture him. That’s how I knew it was sign. It made me stop everything I was doing and the sun reflected on its shiny wings.

This was Jensen’s ‘I love you, Mommy,’ from heaven.

When I realized yesterday was November eleventh, so 11-11, it was even more special. This is going to make me sound even more crazy, but when I was asking him for a sign it was 11:11pm on the tenth. Then there was my sign the next day. I can remember feeling him last year during this time, fluttering happily away. One year later, he came fluttering to me again. Maybe his spirit was carried on the bird like I had imagined me being in the beginning of this post.

I like that thought.

Maybe one day we can fly together. He’ll have to show me how and probably give me the courage to do it, but I’d fly with him.

Screen Shot 2016-11-12 at 4.26.24 PM.png

There’s days like these I wish I could go give everyone feeling this self-doubt and loneliness the biggest hug I can. I’d want them to know they’re not alone. Even if they don’t feel like they’re important or what they say doesn’t matter, they should know it does. This week on the internet has been rough and there’s a lot of people who need support for what’s going on with them. Grief doesn’t give days off, ever. There are times it’s lighter, but it’s always present. Believe me, I know how heavy it is and if you’re feeling it as you’re reading this, I’m walking with you.

You are important.

You are loved.

You have so much to give to this world.

I hope a bluebird can come save you too.

Reliving the Moment.

Posted on by
6

Did you know a lot of women who have went through pregnancy loss also suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)? Before Jensen was born, I only thought veterans or people who went through a really violent experience only had PTSD. The weeks following his birth, I knew I would be going through postpartum healing, grief, and probably depression. I didn’t really think it would be much more than being really sad. Honestly, I felt so strange and different when I was feeling so much more than that. It wasn’t until after I talked to my therapist that I realized that a lot of what I was going through was the same symptoms.

Before I go on, I just want to say I’m in no way comparing my situation to a veteran or person who’s been through a war. That doesn’t mean I’m downplaying the tragedy and trauma I faced though. They’re different types of PTSD, but they’re both very real and affect a person’s everyday life.

There are four general symptoms of PTSD that can be found on the Department of Veterans Affairs:

  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.

At thirty-one weeks post loss, I’m constantly facing each on of these. Sometimes all of happen them in one second and other times it really just is one that I can’t shake off. It’s very unpredictable lately.

For the next few weeks, I’m going to refer back to this list in certain posts. I want to be able to focus on each on when it happens or when it’s feeling most raw to me. Even though I’m experiencing all these feelings, sometimes one hits more than others? Maybe that’s not the best way to explain, but I’m not sure how else to do it.

Anyways, I want to talk about the first symptom on the list: reliving the event.

This past weekend, my brain has been focused on a single moment. I’m not really sure what brought it on, but it’s demanding to be present. This moment is being freeze-framed in my mind over and over again. It’s different then any of my flashbacks that I’ve had before, since it’s not triggered by sight or sound. The moment is a feeling that consumes me and is hard to pull away from. My latest flashback is the moment Jensen was born.

My mind has completely blacked out the time I walked back to the delivery room to getting wheeled out of that room. The only break in the blackness is only ten minutes at the most that I have little pieces of. Before this weekend, it was the last few pushes, the guy beside me yelling out 4:25, and me asking if he had ten fingers and toes. That’s it. It’s all I had remembered until I held Jensen bear. Logically I know the moment he was born only lasted a few seconds. Not to get too detailed in hopes I don’t trigger anyone else, my brain knows I pushed, he came, and was delivered. My mind is now sending me the feelings I had, but shock blocked them out.

Wholeness.
Holding on to hope.
Rush.
Push.
Release.
Hopes being crushed.
Emptiness.
Silence.
Final confirmation he was gone.
Loss of him and myself.
Blackness.

When I look at these feelings wrote out, they just look like words. I can understand someone who hasn’t gone through stillbirth not really understand them or someone who isn’t me. I mean feelings are personal and each of these words bring tears to my eyes. These emotions and ‘words’ happened within seconds, it’s a lot to process. Obviously, since it’s taken thirty-one weeks for my brain to catch up with itself.

Wholeness and emptiness are really sticking out to me. At one moment, his weight was right there. There was still hope, that I knew couldn’t be true. It’s like Jensen’s body held hope, wholeness, and everything that I ever wanted. When he was born, it all went away with him. I first felt the emptiness of where his body had inhabited for months, then the deafening silence. It was all so final and happened too quickly for me to even process.

As the flashbacks keep happening, I can feel the emptiness again and I can’t catch my breath. I literally start hyperventilating, even now when I’m trying to recall it.

It sucks.

Screen Shot 2016-11-08 at 6.44.55 PM.png

Feels like I’m living a nightmare, which I really guess I am. I lived through my worst nightmare and it doesn’t seem real that I haven’t woke up yet. The moment he was born was the best and worst of my life. Jensen was perfect and his body was beautiful. My body let me deliver him, complication free. That moment brought his birth and it could have easily been just the best day of my life. I see the beauty in his silent birth, but the darkness of the nightmare overshadows that moment. I also relive that silence and release of the physical connection we had. Death is ugly. The loss of my son hurts, so does the loss of my identity as a person and the hope I had in the world.

Reliving his birth is hard. I’m triggered by silence, even now and probably for the rest of my life. There will be moments of hope, wholeness, and release that I will encounter again that will most definitely bring me back to this. But somehow I continue to survive. Somehow that release didn’t take me too. You can look at that good or bad because I’ll always have to live knowing that my heart didn’t stop when his did; that somehow the silence didn’t kill me…

If you’re around me or anyone that’s working through trauma, just know these little triggers bring them back to the worst moments of their lives. Don’t encourage me to just move on from them, let me talk them through with you. There will be tears and moments that I can’t say anything, this is when I need you the most.

Happy Anniversary.

Posted on by
2

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.

screen-shot-2016-10-19-at-3-44-39-pm

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.

Seven Months.

Posted on by
2

I don’t know how to begin my post today, but everything is telling me to start typing away. Seven months is a long time to live without half of your heart. In the scheme of life, it’s a short amount of time, which makes it feel more horrible knowing how many more there will come without him.

If Jensen was here, there wouldn’t be a lot of words, just a picture of him smiling and me telling you more about him. What tastes he likes, how big he’s getting, and I’m sure I’d tell you he’s still dancing to Usher. Maybe that picture would be outside on this beautiful day. I think he would be being held by his grandparents, since they’d be celebrating their anniversary this weekend. For some reason, I can imagine them matching with their outfit colors. All I see is smiles and feel like it’s a playful moment between the three of them.

Such a peaceful moment I vividly see, that will never happen.

My life, seven months post loss has one foot in the harsh reality that is and the other envisioning what it would be like if he was here. Seeing those dreams and feeling these emotions afterwards it what makes things complicated. Admittedly, it’s nice to see him in my mind. It keeps his spirit lively and lets me escape the dread momentarily. The feeling part is what’s worse. A mix of letting happiness fill my body when I hear his laugh, that I’ve never heard. Then when it stops… That silence and stillness that I absolutely hate pulls me down; drowns me in the sea of grief. I literally can feel the sobs coming on when that happens, like I’m coughing up salt water while my body convulses.

This life is hard.

Usually, I try to find some good in all of this. I’ll say holding Jensen bear has helped and so has seeing Jensen’s candle on. This morning I woke up feeling lighter than I usually do on the fifth of every month. I dreamt of him last night and this morning’s stillness felt peaceful. Maybe he wanted me to be reassured that he’s still right here with me. As the morning has come to a close and the afternoon welcomes me, I’m waiting for some of the flashbacks of this day in April. They usually hit on these big trigger days. When that happens, I won’t be able to find any good. Instead of holding Jensen bear and finding comfort, I’ll be upset in wondering how much heavier he would be at seven months old. Anything good in life now comes with a double-edged sword.

When I let myself predict how the rest of this days goes, I think it’ll be better than the last few months. Not because I’m ‘getting over’ his death or I’m completely ‘healed,’ it’s more of my body preparing for the rest of the next two months. As I said on the first, there are things coming up that will sting. I feel almost as if my brain is protecting me today by keeping itself busy. I’m not sure. Living with grief is different each day.

In honor of his seven months in heaven, here is a picture you’ve never seen before. It’s of his nose, lips, and of course his big cheeks. Today when looking at his ultrasounds, I was drawn to this one. Looks like he’s trying to look up at me and I can imagine him looking up at the tree outside of his window. Seeing the beautiful orange leaves and the bright blue sky. He’d be such a curious boy, always listening and wanting to learn more.

Screen Shot 2016-11-05 at 1.45.28 PM.png

Happy seven months in heaven, Jensen Grey! Instead of gold confetti this month, I hope you’re celebrating in a fall wonderland. There are orange leaves surrounding you and you’re watching them as the fall all around you. I hope the angels are singing sweet lullabies to you and the wind carries their voices down for me to hear. Celebrate and let the love I have for you surround and warm you. I wish you could be here with me.

I miss you. I love you.

Introducing… Jensen Bear.

Posted on by
1

In the last few days of my pregnancy, I could tell Jensen was going to be a healthy sized baby. The ultrasound ladies would let me know their guesses to how big he would be at his birth. Each week he got bigger and bigger. I felt his weight in every set and sometimes had to hold him in my belly. During those moments, I thought how much easier it would be to be able to hold him my arms and how happy I would be when I did.

But, that moment never came for me.

I don’t like to talk about this part of our story, but maybe I will another day. When I got home from the hospital, I didn’t want to feel his weight . It hurt too much to think about. At the same time, I knew one day I would, but wanted to make sure it was a special moment. That’s when I found out about Molly Bears and knew that’s what I needed. It would help me feel Jensen’s weight and to cuddle something at home in the place where Jensen would grow up.

On the next sign up date, I had my credit card ready and typed super fast so I could fill one of the one hundred and twenty-five spots. I hurriedly typed in my information, Jensen’s information, and what I would like my very own Jensen bear to look like. There were only two things I asked for: a grey bear and something navy and orange. After I finished the form, I found out I had a spot and the waiting process began.

Fast forward six months.

Yesterday morning was like any other morning. I was trying to be quiet making my bed so Leo didn’t run under the covers, then I heard my text message notification go off. It had been fairly earlier so I was intrigued with who it was. There was only two words I saw on the preview, bear and delivered. I dropped everything,  Leo ended up running under the covers, and I raced out to my car then to the post office.

In the car, I started getting anxious. It was finally time I got to feel Jensen’s weight in my arms. When I went back to pick my packages up, the mailwoman even said, ‘this one’s really heavy.’ She unknowingly picked up him up and her comment secretly made me so happy. It’s what I would want to hear about my baby, something about him other than death.

I came right home, went to my room where Jensen’s urn is, and opened it right up.

Jensen bear weighs seven pounds and one ounce. His grey fur matches Jensen’s crib and is so very soft. He was a bright orange bow tie right above his blue heart. Holding him, first brought tears to my eyes, but filled my arms. It meant so much to finally be able feel him. My Jensen’s weight was in my arms and I instantly didn’t want to let Jensen bear down. Jensen bear is perfect and even better than I imagined.

Without further ado, everyone meet Jensen bear.

Screen Shot 2016-11-03 at 7.55.13 PM.png

Thank you Bridget for creating my Jensen bear and allowing me to feel my little boy’s weight for the first time in my arms. Molly Bears is such a beautiful organization and way to honor your sweet daughter. I know you’ve been able to touch so many families that have experienced loss in such a positive manner. You have warmed my heart and filled my aching arms. There is not enough thank you’s in the world.

Thirty Weeks.

Posted on by
Reply

Hello November.png

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.

My Promise To You.

Posted on by
2

Capture Your Grief, My Promise To You, Pumpkins

In the days before your silent arrival, I wrote you a letter. I remember crying while writing it because I knew it was just the beginning of me writing letters to you. My plan was to keep these words secret from you throughout your childhood and give them to you as a surprise on your eighteenth birthday. As I wrote, I was trying to imagine what you would look like the first time I saw you and how you would be years down the road. During these thoughts, you wiggled around in my belly and I just kept encouraging you to keep dancing along. All of these movements reassured me for what I thought was a promised future.

These words were full of one promise I’ll always keep.

The letter I wrote on that day is my favorite that I’ve ever written. There was so much innocence and positivity in every up and down stroke. Even when I told you I expected you to break my heart and challenge me as you grew. I wanted you to know that no matter what you did, your mother would always be there for you. That no matter what trouble or ‘bad’ thing you think you did, I would right here to help. I told you I would be your lifelong cheerleader who would embarrass you at every turn, but I knew you would always be appreciative of those times.

To be honest, I forgot about this letter and a lot of other things when you were first born. My mind blocked a lot of those precious moments in the beginning. It wasn’t until the first time I was home alone at your grandma and grandpa’s, with just your urn and flame flickering away, that I found this letter once again. In that moment, I wanted to throw the notebook across the room. I would never get to embarrass you in the ways I wanted or I would never know what you’d look like at age eighteen. All the letters I had planned to write were gone and they were filled with different words now. Each up and down stroke was still filled with innocence and positivity, but the writer who was reading into her past had changed.

Change.

It flickered in my mind just as quickly as your flame. Each motion reminded me of the pain I was constantly feeling. My whole world has fell apart, Jensen. You are no longer physically here and that absence crushes me. I remember in those moments of sitting there with your letter in my hands, that my soul was tugging from two angles. The first was cold and painful. It was always right there. In those days, it was really the only thing my body could process, so I welcomed it. Yet, there was something else in that moment. The second pulling, which was warm and inviting. It was the promise I made to you each day you were in my belly and it’s the promise I continue to make to you even in your death.

My promise to you, Jensen, is love.

Love is the only promise that can never be broken. I promise to love you with each breath I take. It is the only thing you ever felt on your time here on earth and it’s what you continue to feel in heaven. My promise to you is not only to love you, but surround myself and your memory with love that everyone will be able to see. It’ll be the way I can survive through tomorrow, the holidays, and each day I encounter. My promise of loving you makes my world continue to turn.

I miss you. I love you.
I promise you I’m doing my best.

Give Away Your Love.

Posted on by
2

Real talk.

I wasn’t feeling love, kindness, or any sense of compassion today, especially as the evening rolled on. Honestly, I was doing well the majority of the day. Then talking about costumes through me off. There was this bitterness of little ones trick-or-treating and adults dressing up for parties. Halloween is just the kickoff to celebration days. My body is starting to feel this pent-up emotion of dreading the holidays and their cheery music.

Yesterday, I was planning on what Random Acts I wanted to do and decided on flowers and popcorn for Redbox. Flowers, since I feel like Jensen would want to pick me flowers and gift them to me for my birthday. I also ALWAYS have flowers here and have many live plants in my house. Then I wanted to leave bags of popcorn at Redbox stations because it’s Halloween and people love scary movies. I have a ton of popcorn at my house, but there are times I run out and it’s essential to keep your mind occupied during horror movies.

I had hoped I’d be able to actually hand out popcorn to people renting their movies, but I couldn’t. Social anxiety swept over me. My eyes would not stop watering, especially because I forgot my wallet at home and only noticed it when I was checking out for my flowers. That didn’t help my mood… at all.

But, I knew I had to do this today. I felt compelled to carry on and spread kindness in Jensen’s name.

Halloween - Random Acts of Kindness

Maybe you’re wondering if I came home and felt good about what I did tonight. Did the bitterness of the evening and tears go away? I wish I could tell you that I feel a hundred percent better in my attempts to make at least one person smile tonight. Some pain has alleviated from today, but I’m still said that I didn’t get to take Jensen’s trick-or-treating tonight and I know I can’t take him Monday. It hurts that I don’t get to surprise everyone with what his costume is. Then I think about all the little footprint crafts I had planned or the cute frames to put his first Halloween picture in…

On nights like these, coming home is rough.

Yet, I’ll keep surviving and living the rest of my days for the ones he’ll never live. Tonight that’ll be with my new bottle of wine, steak, and scary movies.

If you’ve found this page from one of the cards from the flowers or popcorn, comment here and leave a picture. I hope Jensen was able to make you smile tonight!

Forever.

Posted on by
Reply

“I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinity. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I’m grateful.” –John Green

I’m so grateful for the forever you gave me. It’s my favorite one of all time.

When our forever together ended, I knew another would start. One that I never could have prepared to take on. This forever consists of little moments full of you and me finding the strength to continue on. It is intertwined with loss and even more love. I’ll keep pushing through until we spend our real forever with each other.

Screen Shot 2016-10-27 at 7.47.50 PM.png

Forever I’ll be your mom. Forever you’ll be my son.
Forever I’ll love you.