I wish you were back in my arms.

I wish for protection in the near future. 

I wish I didn’t need to wish for these things. 

September is the first month I ever saw Jensen. I was terrified in the days before my appointment. Honestly, I had no idea what to expect. He was an upside down little peanut, but I fell even deeper in love with him as I watched his heartbeat gallop on the screen. I’ll never forget how my heart skipped a beat (or ten) while my eyes were peeled on the ultrasound screen. When I left, all I could wish was for April to get here quick.

Somehow two years ago feels like a lifetime. I’ve lived so much in these twenty-four months that most people will never understand unless they’ve lived it too. The world I wished for was right in my grasps, then stolen away from me. It’s so much easier to type that in short, than to live it. Last September… was difficult. Jensen’s dad had left and I felt like everything in the world was against me. I didn’t deserve love and why would Jensen have chosen me. At this point, I had felt the depression and grief of losing my son, but I fell deeper into the rabbit hole.

Depression is always talked about loosely by those who’ve never battled with it every. single. second. It’s not something you can just snap out of or wish for it to be gone. I can remember hearing that depression was ‘fake’ and just a cry for attention, but it sure didn’t feel fake.

I’ve grown and made countless wishes for Jensen to be back with me and for me to heal in the best possible way I could. Wishes always were ones that seemed impossible, you know like being a princess or finding a briefcase with a million dollars in it. Not wishing for my dead child to be back in my arms and help to struggle with my depression. Maybe these are my impossible things now.

Stillbirth has changed everything. 

This September is much better than last. I’ve started back to college, with my Master’s Degree. Let me tell you, its way harder than I thought it was three years ago. I know it’s only the second day in the month, but yesterday when I was doing my coursework I felt Jensen cheering me on with every word I wrote for my tasks. I’m always back subbing, which has brought me more joy than I thought I could ever have before. That sounds sad. I love being in the school and I know I have a tiny insignificant role, but I wish I could be there everyday.

And now I’m all emotional and crying.

It’s so difficult to find something to be genuinely happy about when you think all your happiness is stolen from you. Then when you really think about it makes you sad. I used to be so happy and thankful. Every dandelion I’d see, I would pull and wish for whatever popped in my mind. Now, I only do it when they call out to me because I know wishes don’t normally come true.

But I had hope yesterday when I saw this one. Hope that I will see Jensen again and hope that he will guide me to where I need to be.

I know I’m rambling on and I haven’t blogged in a while. There’s just so much happening behind the screen that I’m processing and afraid to share. Bereaved parents don’t get a guidebook of how to journey through life after loss, but I’m just doing my best.

Yesterday I turned twenty-four years old. It marks the third year I knew about Jensen’s existence. I can remember being so excited when I turned twenty-two, just waiting for this huge change to happen. Last year, I hated turning another year older. This year, I’m sort of embracing the change. I don’t like getting older and knowing Jensen will never age, but I know it needs to be special. These big days will forever be bittersweet. His absence is deafening, but I’m to a point where I need to celebrate these victories. 

That’s what he’d want me to do too. 

I wanted to give you all a big recap of my day. To be honest, it was boring to most. A lot of much needed self care and a big dinner with my family. The day was just what I needed it to be and I felt Jensen all around me. 

In my twenty-four years, I’ve realized what is most important in my life. I wanted to share my ‘wisdom’ that I’ve gained in old age with you all…

• Love Yourself 
  
• Family Over Everything 
  
• Live in the Moment
  
• Breathe 
  
• You’re Only Human 
  
• Smile When You Can
  
• Be Authentically You 
  
• Don’t Take Anything for Granted 

I feel like they’re all mantras you see on a bumper sticker, but, for me, it’s what keeps my world turning. Losing Jensen and life after loss has showed me what’s important. I hate thinking that just because he died I realized these things, but in tragedy eyes are opened. 

The one thing I’ll always miss on my birthday, Mother’s Day, and Christmas is cards and gifts from Jensen. I looked forward to having handmade crafts from school or my parents taking him to the store to get a card. There would be a collection of cards from him and seeing how time effected his handwriting. It would be like a time capsule. 

Last night, my parents presented me with a gift. I knew they had bought me clothes (they had me pick them out) and a candle. When I reached in the bag though, I discovered not one, but two cards. Danielle on the first and Mommy on the other. Although I have never told my mom and dad my longing to get something from Jensen, they gave me a gift that touched my heart. 

Thank you to everyone who wished me a happy birthday this week. It was filled with peace and hope for this coming year. 

Photo from sayinggoodbye.org. 

I want to write and share about my journey, where do I start?

Out of all the questions I get from other loss parents, this is the one that comes up most often.  As parents, we want our child’s name out there in the world and for them to be remembered. Sharing our experiences is a perfect way to do this.

Now, I’m not an expert, by any means. For me, I began blogging years ago. It was just me talking about my college years and what was going on in my life. Sometimes when I go back and read, I cringe at the topics that were so important then. Seriously, it was so bad, but it did teach me that sharing what is on my heart in mind was a good thing and how to work that particular blogging platform. When Jensen was born, I had so many words clogging my head that I knew I needed to get them out, so I turned to what was familiar.

But where to begin?

There’s a lot to say after loss, but I would suggest everyone to begin at one place: your story.

That might seem a little obvious, but reliving all those events is emotional. There are times I’ve told my story and I haven’t been able to get through without breaking down. It’s okay, this is ‘normal.’

Here’s the first time I shared Jensen’s story publicly: Jensen Grey’s Story.

Honestly, you can tell your pregnancy/birth story a million times and it will always be different. It seems like there are parts you remember that you didn’t before or a certain detail sticks out one time more than others. I’ve written Jensen’s story so many times and I always surprise myself with what comes out. This is a great way to introduce your baby and you as a parent to the entire world.

Of course, you don’t have to delve into certain areas of the story you don’t feel comfortable talking about. You may ease into the more you begin sharing. Just do whatever feels comfortable for you.

Let’s say you have your story ready to share, you go to click post, and then you freeze. Sometimes it just doesn’t feel right and you want to keep your child and their story to yourself. You might never get to a point where you’re comfortable to share, but you have their story all wrote out. It’s a huge accomplishment just to let some of the pressure out of your head. No one is pressuring you to tell your story and will be mad that you didn’t. Most people just want to support you.

If and when you do decide to share with the world, I’m happy for you.

Not only is writing healing for you, but it can help so many others through their journey. Your story is different from everyone else’s, but there will be similarities that help loss parents reach out and build connections. That’s what is so beautiful about this community.

It might be a one time post or it could grow into writing on a schedule. From there you can decide what to write about. Life after loss is a constant learning experience. Through it, your words may be able to give another a feeling of not being alone or some insight of what they can do if they find themselves in the same situation. No matter what, writing your story first will guide you in what you feel is best to do next.

Write your story. Share your child. Be proud of your motherhood (or fatherhood).

*If you have any other questions or would like to share your story, feel free to comment the link or write it out below.*

I read my son a bedtime story last night.

This particular book I bought after he was gone, well this week last year actually. The sentence pulled at my heartstrings, such as many books I have read in the past…

“Yes, Edgar, I’ll always love you… evermore.”

He’d be sixteen and a half months old now. That seems unbelievable. His day and nighttime routine should be set in stone, which includes me reading to him. Instead of him trying to help me turn the pages, I read and the rest of the house was silent. Besides my voice, the only other noise in the house was the pages turning. You would think I would get used to stillness, but it still makes me uncomfortable. I think it always will.

When I was pregnant with Jensen, I read to him every night. Then I would journal and write a Bible verse. Even the first couple weeks after he was born, I would get out the books he’d kick to and whisper their words so he could hear and no one would think I was crazy. Reading every night turned to only a few times a week to just on big days, like Christmas or his birthday. It got too hard. That sounds like a really weak excuse, but it’s true and the truth is always difficult to swallow. Instead, I kept writing at night, which turned into nightly letter writing. One day my collection of notebooks will be bigger than the amount of books Jensen had in his little library.

After I got done reading to him, I cried on the floor. (I seem to be doing this a lot lately.)

Earlier yesterday, I kept feeling like this was all a dream. It felt like I couldn’t connect back to almost two years ago when I found out he was in my belly. Sometimes I forget how his kicks feel or what it was like being pregnant. When that happens, I have to focus really hard to get them back. But that’s terrifying to me. Those are the only moments I had with him and I won’t get anymore.

I don’t have the words to explain how the aftermath of pregnancy and infant loss feels. There have been days I just go sit in his room and say his name. He was real. The absolute worst happened. It stopped me from all the future moments with him. 

I didn’t just lose a baby, I lost every second I was meant to spend with him. A person died, not an idea of one. 

August not only brings my birthday, it’s when I had my positive pregnancy test. The first month of the rest of my life. I wonder if my brain has been protecting me lately by not letting pregnancy memories flood my consciousness. The cycle of Jensen events will be in full swing in only a few days. I can feel the anxiety slowly building, I wonder if I’m strong enough to hold it all.  

Somehow I know I will be; I have so far. I have surprised myself with being able to stand back up again. Through all the pain and heartbreak I have encountered, I’m still pushing on. Forever tied to Jensen and the love that surrounds him, but also to the lessons loss has taught me. 

“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

The Great Gatsby