Love, Loss, and Motherhood.
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Wordless Wednesdays.
After every challenging day, there is a little peace. Wednesday’s have been my little peace for me the past few weeks. From now on, I’m going to dedicate the calmness of each Wednesday as Wordless Wednesday.
Three Months.
Today my son turns three months old.
I’ve been dreading this day. This whole holiday weekend has been so exhausting and has led up to this Tuesday. It seems unreal that I’m here right now. Somehow my body is still walking, breathing, and functioning. Most times it feels like my soul is going to lift right up from my body and just go. I’m not sure where my soul would go, I’d just want to be right there with Jensen’s.
This Tuesday is unlike all the other milestone Tuesdays and changing of the months. Today is just like the day Jensen was born: Tuesday, April 5. The combination of the days together hurts so much more. Not to mention we changed the calendar page, again. It all has flooded me this weekend. I was with family on Saturday, just like I was three months ago. Sunday was a lazy day with Anthony. Then Monday was full of pain and loathing for the next day to come. July is mirroring April. Heck, the weather is just like April.
Then I’m here, barely. My body is a zombie and my mind is just everywhere all at once; replaying three months ago and since then all at once. It hits me how much time has passed.
Dear Jensen;
I love you.
I miss you.
It’s been twelve weeks today. I can remember having you in my belly for twelve whole weeks and thinking we were safe. All I want is you here with that safe feeling back. Here in my arms, growing out of your shoes and onesies. At twelve weeks old, you would have changed so much. I think you probably would have already needed a hair cut. I’m constantly imagining you and what we would be doing if you were here. Our lives would be so full and happy. I’m trying to get back to that now; it’s just hard to do without you here.
Jensen Grey, you’re the only thing that brings me my glimpse of happiness.
Eighty-four days full of love and loss, battling each other. Love usually wins out, but there’s days like today where all I can feel is that hole in my heart. I always feel myself longing for you, wishing I could go back in time when I know you were warm and hearing my voice. If it was four months ago, I would have just seen you dancing around in my belly the day before. Monday and Thursdays were my days to see you there. They were and will always be my favorite days. Just seeing you be the silly little boy you are. I loved how I could see your cute little nose and your face shape. They never could have shown me how cute and squeezable your chubby cheeks were though.
That’s my favorite ultrasound picture of you; there’s that button nose. Here you can see your chubby cheeks, they make me smile. You are so adorable, sweet love. All your life and even to know, love has surrounded you. I know for a fact you still feel that love. You show me it every day, Jensen. The red and blue birds follow me wherever I go.
I could look at you all day and if you were here in my arms, that’s probably all I would get done doing. No one can explain what this feels like. I’m not talking about grief, Jensen, no one can explain what it’s like to see something they so beautifully creative. Never could I have ever imagined you would be as beautiful as you are. One day I’ll show you off to the world, but I like keeping your pictures to just me right now.
Right now I’m wondering what you’re doing, besides listening to me type this out loud. Are you playing with other babies? Are you being help by everyone that loves you so very much in heaven? Do you feel all my love going to you? Do you celebrate your weeks in heaven like I do here? Do you grow or will you wait for me to see you grow in heaven? Do you miss me? Am I being a good enough mother to you? I wonder all these things all the time.
Jensen, all I ever wanted was to be your mommy. You were my sweetest hello and the hardest goodbye. I’ll never let you go and I won’t let you be forgotten. I’ll drink chocolate milk every morning to remind me of you. Daddy will keep avoided going to Arby’s because we know you disliked it. We read to you each night, Goodnight Moon and Go Dog Go, both your favorites. My music is always on loud and I try to sing when I can, all because I knew it made you happy. I lay on my left side, your favorite. It’s all for you, Jensen. You are my little boy, my sweet love.
I miss you.
I love you, always remember.
Eleven Weeks.
Einstein theorized the relativity of time. Now I’m not a scientist or have ever claimed to be one, but I think I could explain it in simple words. Time changes speed from different reference points in ones life. Maybe that’s even confusing. An example might be better, Jensen was born eleven weeks ago; it feels like yesterday and forever ago at the same time. Even thinking back to Sunday, Father’s Day, it feels like Jensen’s birth happened after Sunday. Tuesdays always bring me back to the day he was born, but time is relative. My ‘reference point’ or thought process today is all about Jensen… but then it hits me, it’s really been that long since we were last together.
Either Einstein is crazy with all his theories or grief is just making my mind clouded with the thought of his theories.
Eleven weeks. Instead of celebrating with Jensen today, I’ve been to therapy and will being going to a support group tonight. I’m trying with all my might to be focused on me today. This isn’t fair. He should be growing bigger and his blond hair becoming more and more wild. He’d be growing out of his 0-3 month clothes, but believe me, he’d have plenty of clothes to grow into. I want to touch his button nose and kiss his cheeks. Instead of this quiet house, I should hear his coos and even his cries. I would do anything for a loud, messy house.
Another one of my favorite ultrasounds. I can see his lips and his hand, always by his face. His cute little heart-shaped face like his momma. Jensen was such a lively baby and would only cooperate if I talked nicely to him. It was so funny, the ultrasound techs would tell me he was stubborn and wouldn’t let them get the ‘right’ picture. I would just say, Jensen please do what they want you to do. Then he would. Sometimes he’d cover his face with his hand and move it to where the ultrasound wand was, so ornery. Twice a week I would waddle to and from my car to go look at my sweet boy. I probably looked crazy, even then, I would just always be talking to him alone and in public. He’d always let me know he was listening.
I’m so thankful to have all of his ultrasounds. They make me smile. This is how I’ll always remember him and our time together; him dancing in my belly and sticking his tongue out at me. He would practice his breathing and just shake his body. When I look at even one of his ultrasounds, I am pulled back to every single time I went to one. Each time he grew so much bigger, even in three days. I love feeling him grow and learning his likes and dislikes at such an early age. Yes even as a little baby in my belly, he let me know. I guess he’s more like me than I ever thought.
Those thirty-eight weeks was the best time of my life.
Here’s a secret and I don’t even know if I should share it. We got Jensen’s hospital pictures close to two weeks ago. I wish I could say that I’ve studied all of them, have my favorite one, and am in the process of printing them out so I can have his little face in my house. But that would be a lie; they sit in his drawer untouched. Do you know how horrible it is to not be able to look at your child’s pictures? They’ve been so beautifully explained to me and every part of me wants to study every part of those seventy images. I just can’t.
They’re so different from his ultrasound pictures. My lively, little boy isn’t in those pictures. What if they don’t bring me my big smile like his other photos? What if I can only see death? What kind of mother would I be if I had negative feelings towards looking at these seventy images? Death, so ugly. I just want to see my little love’s face. It’s not fair that the only time I can look at him is in his pictures. People have thousands of pictures of their babies, I have seventy pictures. I’ll never get anymore. Maybe the pain in that truth hurts more than just seeing death. I’m not sure.
It shouldn’t have to be a thought in my mind.
Death shouldn’t have crept in my body and took my son.
Jensen, I hope in this eleven weeks you’ve felt comforted by my love. I hope you see all that we do for you and know you will never be forgotten. You will always be my sweet, little love and the joy of my life. The thirty-eight weeks we had together were my favorite in my life. Your life was short, but so big. I love you and I miss you. You’ve made this world a much better place.
Dreams.
There are two things I know to be true for tomorrow. First, it will be a beautiful day. June is in full swing with the warm, summer weather. A great day to be outside and swimming in the pool. It’s the kind of day I would wish and wish for in past summers. Second, storm clouds will be following me the entire day. Tomorrow marks ten weeks without Jensen.
In times like these, our memory and brains are always searching for a relatable situation to help guide us along. Honestly, there is nothing like having a child die. All the BIG, “life-changing” emotions and situations that have effected me in my life, tended to fizzle out. I have been excited to go to new places, sad during certain events, and really angry. In time, all those intense emotions just where there then left definitely after ten weeks. During the past ten weeks, my emotions and thoughts have not lessened. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.
Each day that passes is hard. The initial shock of everything that happened has wore off and all those emotions have surfaced. It doesn’t feel like I should be moving forward without Jensen. Last week, I couldn’t stop crying. Getting out of bed every single morning felt like it was all I could do. There was a time I looked to the backseat where Jensen’s car seat should have been. When I turned around, I imagined Jensen sitting there so contently with a pacifier in his mouth and a big, grey sunhat on his head. In this image, he was content with just being in the car with us. Everywhere I look, the images happen. Instead of having a storm following me tomorrow, I should be playing with him and celebrating him being ten weeks old.
I don’t think this type of grief will ever really go away. How can losing a child not effect the rest of your life? I’ve read it can take around five years to really be able to consistently have good days. Like, returning to normal but not. Believe me, you can’t return to normal after losing your precious child. I believe a new normal will re-emerge, where there’s more good days than bad. Where not all my thoughts are consumed by loss. I know I’ll think of Jensen every single day for the rest of my life. The difference is, I’ll be able to separate all the good things I love about Jensen from death’s ugly grip.
After a week full of tears, today has been peaceful. Probably the calm before the storm, but that’s just the way I think now. It started off so beautifully. Anthony made me breakfast in bed; eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee. The look on his face, he was so proud of himself. I hope my smile was a big enough “thank you” to him. It was one of the moments I always pictured Jensen helping him with. My boys. I picture Jensen with a big smile, trying to carry the red tray and Anthony right behind him making sure he doesn’t spill it everywhere. The both of them just trying to start my day off beautifully. Big smiles would fill the room.
Obviously this morning I instantly was thinking of that dream I have. I was surprised grief didn’t set in, instead I was able to live in the calm before the storm. Our end tables got stained, I cleaned the house, and only cried one time. A semi decent day without the waves of grief crashing down. This type day hasn’t really happened since Jensen’s been born. There’s been fleeting moments, but not a whole day (knock on wood). I felt like I needed to honor Jensen today in acting out a dream I wanted with him. A simple, little dream really. I picked flowers, lilies, from outside and put them in a vase. Little boys always try and give their mommas flowers. I needed more Jensen today and bringing the beauty of the flowers inside helped with that.
I believe Jensen gave me this beautiful day. Him and his dad must have teamed up to make me smile and feel comfortable today. Maybe it’s because I’ve allowed myself a good day. Grief is hard, hard work. Living day to day with this heavy loss tugs on my soul. Today wasn’t about Jensen’s death, it reminded me of Jensen’s life. It was warm, beautiful, and made me smile. It started and it will end with thoughts of my little man.
Jensen, thank you for giving me this day. I know you see my hard days and only wish I had good ones. My heart is so heavy, but continues to love you so very much. I hope as you turn ten weeks old in heaven, they hold you while they dance and sing you the sweetest lullabies. I hope you smile and are warm. Jensen Grey, I hope you’re swaddled with our love and hear every word I whisper to you.
Space.
Near the end of my pregnancy, I was in hardcore nesting mode. All of Jensen’s clothes were washing, the diaper bag in my car, his car seat set up, the house almost ready, and I counted how many packs of diapers we had over and over again. I had to know we were prepared for Jensen and his first nights at home would go perfectly. An unrealistic expectation, of course, but I had to be sure I thought everything was good enough for him. Even though the house wasn’t done, his nursery and where he would be was all set. My world was revolving around he would be, his space.
As all moms do, I put him before myself and didn’t really care how my space would be. If he was content, I would be happy with whatever. I put myself on the back burner, not that I would have changed a thing looking back. Even after Jensen was born, I was still obsessed with his space. I couldn’t comprehend his space having to change or how it would impact me. His nursery isn’t set up, the swing isn’t in the spot I knew it would go, and his pack-n-play isn’t peacefully sitting in my bedroom. It’s been a week and a half since we moved in and I’m still looking at all those places. All the places he needs to be.
It’s okay I can’t put those places where he should be out of my head, I’ve had to refocus on how he is incorporated in our home. His urn is always in the room I’m in. It might sound crazy to you, but I do move his urn around the house. I have an ultrasound picture on the wall right beside his footprints. His silver J will be hanging in my built in bookcase. Jensen’s bedroom still has his colors on the wall, navy blue and orange. I’ve planned on ordering more remembrance items to display in the house. Every item that I bought with him safely in my belly has a story. I’m still making space for him and probably always will.
Yet, this week I was motivated to make space for me. Space to collect my thoughts, journal, and remember him in. It might technically be classified as a space for him, but it’s intent is for me. In my Mothering Your Heart workshop, we’re focusing on space. Again, I am so thankful for the loss community to help me manage my grief and help me along through this process. It’s helped me realize everything I’m going through is ‘normal’ and okay how I process it. I think space is different for everyone. For me, I had to physically make space to feel like I was connecting to Jensen. My house is so new to me and there’s no where I can really retreat from everything. So I had a huge motivation factor to help push me make space for Danielle. After 38 weeks and 2 days of pregnancy and a little over two months of grief, this momma needed a place to tackle grief and honor her baby.
That is my safe place. Yellows to brighten my day, words to help me think positive, and comfy seats to welcome my thoughts and emotions. All things to try to make each day a little more bearable. Safe from triggers, negative energy, and loss. It’s the one part of the house I didn’t have planned while Jensen was with me. That spot was supposed to house his pack-n-play. I wonder if he would like the yellow? Or would he be mad that I created this space for me? Sometimes I see it and feel guilty. I would never have bought this little space if he wasn’t here…
I second guess every move I make now that he’s not with me. Doing everything for him came so naturally. Now refocusing my attention on myself just feels wrong. My brain is at constant battle with itself. I don’t want to move forward, but I know the whole world keeps spinning. The whole world is trying to pull me along, but I want to stay stuck. Staying stuck thinking about my little Jensen is much more appealing than playing along with everyone else. I try to play along, then I retreat. I have to create this space for my reality. My two yellow chairs bring me comfort and give me the space I need to retreat from the world.
Jensen would have loved my space. He would be so happy I’m making space for myself and trying to care for my heart. I know he guided me to all the elements that occupy this little retreat.
Oh little love, how I wish I could still have you here. I’d much rather be creating space for the both of us, making sure everything was perfect for you.
Two Months.
Sometimes there are no words to accurately put together a feeling. Sure, there are basic feelings: happy, sad, angry, etc. Grief takes every emotion known to humans and mashes them all together with no rhyme or reason. Today is one of the days where I can’t even tell how I’m feeling. I’ve smiled and have been able to get some pictures hung up. Tears have also stained my cheeks. In the moment I feel my breakdown coming, I run to the shower. Somehow it feels like the water from the shower hides the tears.
This thought makes me laugh. The only person I’m trying to hide my tears from is myself.
If you haven’t guessed already, today Jensen is two months old. Sixty-one days have passed since he’s been born. At two months old, babies are into complex designs. Which means they are looking for detailed objects instead of plain. Their brains are wanting to process more. He’d be able to differentiate different voices, look at the details in my face, and I’d see his face light up when he sees something new. I would do anything to see that look. Just as I would do anything to have those sixty-one days with Jensen.
Thinking about milestones during pregnancy always excited me. At my baby shower, I received the little month markers. They were shaped as ties. I looked at them and just knew Jensen would updating all our friends and family with these ties. It was another item that I had so many dreams about. Just a simple picture. All the pictures coming together to form a little story. The story of Jensen’s first year of milestones. I wish I could remember what color tie he would have on his picture for today. They’re packed away in the basement with all his other belongings.
Instead of going through ties, I’m going to go through a lot of candles. Actually I’ve went through two today. It’s one way I can connect to Jensen. The flame brings me peace and centers everything. I watch as the flame dances, it reminds me how Jensen would dance in my belly. Here is my photo for today…
This is my calm space, his flame brings me so much comfort and love. The flames has been dancing all day. Poe and Leo leave his urn alone and have been cuddling with me all day. They must know I need comfort and to feel their warmth. I really want to just be holding Jensen, have him looking at my face, and taking in the complex details.
Usually I reflect on how I’ve processed my week on Tuesday, the actual weekday Jensen was born. It’s my therapy day and a way to track how I am. Today I find myself reflecting on the past month. It’s only my second month without Jensen. I laugh at myself when I say only since it feels like an eternity. This past month has been so much harder. The shock and disbelief of him not being here has gone away. I’ve turned to being angry and am in pain. I physically find it hard to breathe sometimes or catch my breath. Every little thing can set my anger off, which makes me want to distant myself from others. Being in a group of more than three people gives me anxiety. In the first month I found it to be okay since it was distracting me from Jensen’s absence. Now it’s just always there. I hate that I am pushing people away, but I cannot let myself be in a vulnerable situation.
As the day is coming to a close, I’m trying to prepare for month three. I’m anxious to see how I do with swimming. When I was pregnant I looked forward to having Jensen in the pool. He definitely would have been a little fishy. I want to purchase a new, comfy chair for my bedroom for reflections each day. It will be a place where I can just read, write, or think about Jensen. I’m trying to find new outlets for my grief and anger. There has to be something I can do to lessen the intense feelings of being mad. Even if it’s just going on a walk or creating something. By just preparing myself for the next month, I feel a little more at ease.
Month three is another month without Jensen physically here. It’s another month of missing my guy. I know it’ll be a lifetime of missing him. I hope to learn more about myself, continue to grow, and mother Jensen to the best of my ability. They’re probably celebrating his two month anniversary up in heaven. I hope he sees me trying my best and he’s still and always wrapped in the warmth of my love.
Jensen, Mommy loves you so very much. Continue dancing in the clouds and growing your angel wings.
A Beautiful Meeting.
Grief is a lifelong journey and each days brings the good and the bad. Today was hard, but full of good. On the eve of Jensen being gone for six weeks, I felt an immense amount of sadness. It’s also a day I’ve been looking forward to for a little over a week. Today I met two beautiful souls.
The week before last, I happened to come across another WordPress blog which brought me to an Etsy shop: BurdenBearingBaskets. I feel in love with the beautiful writing and this wonderful idea to show others that you’re thinking about them while their grieving. I looked at their items and had to show everyone around me. The idea of sending a person that’s grieving a basket to let them know you’re thinking about them just seemed so perfect. Then I saw the owners of the shop were in North Canton. Being me, I had to reach out. Something was telling me I had to tell these owners Jensen and I’s story. This is how I met Jessica and Melissa.
Thankfully, they didn’t think I was too crazy and responded to my message. They heard Jensen and I’s story and offered to meet in person since we were so close. Of course I was thrilled. I was looking forward to exchanging stories about ourselves and our babies, and to tell them again how amazing I think their Etsy shop is. Today is the day we decided on meeting. I’m so thankful for this day.
Our meeting was filled with stories, tears, laughs, and genuinely a good time. We were able to share so many things and didn’t have to explain what it all meant, we just knew. Their stories touched my heart and it takes people with the biggest hearts to help others. They truly are beautiful souls. I’ll always cherish our conversation. I know we met in the worst circumstances, but I’m blessed we did. It’s times like this where I really believe God sends people to us. He sees our journey through grief and shows us support is always near.
They also surprised me with some gifts from their shop. I’d like to share with all of you because they’re so beautiful. Just seeing Jensen’s name wrote out so perfectly makes me smile. He’ll never be forgotten and I’ll always be so thankful for meeting Jessica and Melissa and the wonderful gifts.
All together.
The most beautiful handkerchief in the whole entire world.
I’m seriously so in love with every single item. I have them all out in front of me still and tears just keep falling. I see Jensen’s name wrote and know he’s just smiling down. I feel this sense of peace after meeting and talking to Jessica and Melissa. God gets us through these horrible tragedies and sends us beautiful people and signs from above. His love for us is the reason I’m able to have this deep love for Jensen. My little love was such a beautiful gift, he just had to go back a little sooner than I’d ever have anticipated.
Please, please, please go check out Jessica and Melissa’s Etsy shop BurdenBearingBaskets. The items are made with so much love and care, it shines through when you look at them.
I’d also, again, would like to thank Jessica and Melissa so much for everything. You two have touched my heart and made it lighter. I know this journey of grief is hard, but you girls have brought me so much strength, joy, and light today and every time I see these perfect presents.
Reassuring Kicks.
Jensen loved going out in public. When I would walk through places with a bunch of people, he would kick to every different voice. Then he’d fall asleep within fifteen minutes because he was my lazy, little boy. Every time I went out though, he would perk up and listen. We went to the doctors a lot. He’d get bored of their same voices; I think he knew I was annoyed of the doctors and all their bad news. He always tried to cheer me up though; he may have been a lazy butt, but he knew his kicks made his momma feel better.
I always thought this was his “silly” face ultrasound or like he was super excited the camera was on him. He would be giving me the thumbs up today. Such a happy, little baby.
Today I needed his kicks to make me feel better. I ventured of into the “real world,” more like the comfort of my house. It’s been a day I’ve dreaded for a week: my ‘six’ week postpartum exam. I didn’t think I could take putting myself in a vulnerable situation. What if she said his death was my fault? What if she said I did something wrong? What if she told me I was a bad mom? What if she discarded his life? What if I couldn’t breath because I had a panic attack? All the “what ifs” were adding up and they were dangerous.
I’m sure if Jensen was here, I wouldn’t have dreaded it so much. I’d just be excited to know I was healthy and show off my beautiful boy to everyone in the office. Believe me, I would do anything to be showing him off to everyone if I could. If only I had his kicks to reassure me. Well, now it would have been his little looks towards me. His little blond hair so very different from my dark, brown hair.
Instead I sat in the exam room, telling the doctor my story and crying until my eyes hurt. Not only going through all the details of my pregnancy, but the end. How his heart stopped beating, why it stopped beating, and the silence of birth. I’m sure she’s seen new moms cry happy tears during their six week appointment, I would give anything for that to be me. When she told me I was healthy and all healed up, it didn’t even phase me. So what my body is okay? I might look okay, but I’m in pain every single second of the day. How can I not be in pain? She just said it herself, my baby died. This wasn’t supposed to happen, but when it does it’s all of the sudden.
I can’t complain, my new doctor was amazing. She spent two hours in the exam room listening and answering my “what ifs.” I didn’t do anything wrong and I could not have done anything to prevent this tragedy. She kept telling me how I was a wonderful mom, hearing her call me a mom as much as she did made me feel better. We talked about Jensen and how important he is. Jensen’s life is important and it always will be. He was my child during my pregnancy, birth, and the rest of my life. Not even death can take that away.
Grief sucks. Grief makes me focus on the bad and doubt myself. It tries to steer me away from thinking of all my happy thoughts I had with Jensen and makes me focus on the silence. I’d never wish this grief or loss on anyone. Everyone should have their baby to show off every time they go into public. Yes, it was a bad day of grief. The type of day where I couldn’t catch my breath. Even when I heard ‘good’ news, I couldn’t find the strength to smile.
Jensen would have made me smile. He would’ve loved her asking all about him while he was safe in my belly. I know he would move his head to make sure he could hear her and of course me. He would always move his head when I would talk to him. His kicks would be consistent for about five minutes, until he got bored with all the medical talk.
Jensen would have made today so amazing.
Grey Skies & Rainbow Highs 