Tag Archives: infant loss

May We All Heal | Succumb

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I refuse to succumb to the darkness.

For me, grief has thrown me so many emotions and thoughts I didn’t know I had. There’s so much anger, sadness, and guilt that is so embedded after Jensen was born, that I never felt before. Which, honestly, makes sense. Life after loss is completely different from what it was in the before. Emotions are much more intense and this longing for Jensen… it knocks me off my feet some days.

There are many days where the cycle of those emotions don’t stop turning. During those times, it feels like there will never be light moments for me again. My body and will become weak, sometimes feeling like they are going to break.

The thought of picking up those pieces, again, seems ridiculous. I did it in the weeks and months following Jensen birth. It was a painstaking process that I had to do for myself. But if I would ever, once again, get to that broken place… What is the point of doing this again? Why not just let myself slip into a slumber that I’ll never awaken from? Be with Jensen for eternity. Succumb to the pain and anger to just be free.

That darkness stays with you. It tempts you and makes you question all of what you believed before. You could easily surrender yourself to it.

But, I refuse to succumb to the darkness. 

When those moments flood me, I remember love’s light.

I think of Jensen and the happiness and life he would wish for me.

I think of my family, who would do anything to make me smile and feel like I have a place.

I think of my friends, who are old and new, that support me and choose to be here.

I think of Leo and Poe and the joy they bring me every day.

I think of an impacted future where I can continue sharing Jensen’s name.

I think of succeeding and knowing that since I lived through the worst imaginable loss in my life, I can conquer everything else.

To succumb to this grief and pain would never solve any problems. It would only cause more loss. I can’t let anyone else ever feel this way. That’s why I refuse to succumb to the darkness and choose to follow love’s light.

May We All Heal | Reflect 

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When I woke up this morning, I knew I had to do a great page for today’s May We All Heal Prompt because I didn’t share mine from yesterday. It was a busy day and what I wrote, just didn’t need to be shared. But, reflection. I reflect every time I write about Jensen and this journey.

How could this go wrong?

Then, I spilled water all over my page today after of a few minutes of trying to be artsy and get an orange reflection for the pictures. It smudged ‘reflect’ and Jensen’s name. Instantly, I was angry.

Why does everything I touch just get messed up?

My eyes filled with tears from the wheel of negative thoughts that keeps turning in my head. Some days I just don’t feel good enough or that any of my actions don’t matter. So what’s the point of even doing them? Over a year of grieving and waiting for Jensen to just magically appear in his room one morning and it still hasn’t gotten any better. This sucks and me spilling half a glass of water on this book and page I’ve worked in everyday this month just topped it off.

Logically, I know that I haven’t messed up everything in my life. I can look back in the time Jensen has been gone and see positives that have come out of the love I have for him. Most times, I can list a handful of great people and things I have right here. Then, I reflect on Jensen’s life. He was here and he lived so greatly. I didn’t hurt him or cause him to die. Quite the opposite.

So why do I want to scream when I  see this water-soaked and marker smudged page?

It reminds me of sadness, tears, and negative reflection. Which shows how easily grief can take this day and twist it and me to something it’s not. This. Is. So Hard.

This is what healing and reflecting is though. The grief process mangles us. It takes us and drags us through the mud. Who’s to say these negative moments and days aren’t apart of healing too? With every up, there’s a down. Just like there has been the past over thirteen months.

This is healing. This is grieving. This is reflecting.

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.

On This Mother’s Day…

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From the moment I saw the word ‘pregnant’ on the first test I took, he made me a mother.

Through those early weeks of excitement to see him grow and feel him move, he made me a mother.The first time I heard that strong, galloping heartbeat, he made me a mother.

When he showed off what made him be a boy on the ultrasound screen, he made me a mother.

During the worry of wondering if I was going to be a good enough mother to him, he made me a mother.

Feeling his kicks everyday and him jab me when I didn’t lay on my left side, he made me a mother.

Through those last weeks of anticipation for his big arrival, he made me a mother.

Giving me a quick, almost painless labor, he made me a mother.

During those weeks of deep pain and grief, he made me a mother.

In these weeks of healing and living our new normal, he made me a mother.

Even through our tragic story, there is an endless, unbreakable love that will always stay because he made me a mother.

He made me a mother and I am so proud that he’s my son.

On this Mother’s Day, I’m honoring my motherhood and the love I have for my son by showing him off to the world. When I see him, my whole being fills with pride and happiness. I made this little human and he’s given me a life I never knew was possible.

My only wish for this day (as it is on every day) is to have him back in my arms. I know this isn’t possible. So instead, I hope someone tells me ‘Happy Mother’s Day.’ I hope someone says Jensen name to me. I hope every mother who has lost a baby feels honored today. Just as I hope anyone who is facing this day without their mom, or sister, or aunt, or grandmother, feels like their loved one is forever remembered and honored.

Hold the ones you care about most near your heart. There are so many others that have to carry others in their. Just like I carry Jensen and his great-grandmother in mine.

This little boy, he means the world to me. He made me his mother and that’s my favorite part about myself.

 

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.