Tag Archives: process

Just Listen & Six Other Ways to Help a Friend After Loss.

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As I head into the fourth month of love and loss, I’ve learned a lot about how other’s see and understand grief. In this time, I can honestly say, our society doesn’t prepare us to help others after any type loss. Before Jensen was born, I had no idea how to help someone going through any type of loss. Sometimes, even now, I still don’t know what do say or how to help someone.

Grief is messy, unpredictable, and causes colossal pain. No two people experience grief the same exact way, which makes it even harder for friends and family. I recently read an article that said grief, especially after losing a child, lasts a lifetime. Yes, there’s good days and people learn how to live and manage the sadness, but it is always there. A child is gone. It isn’t something you can just get over, ever.

This list consists of things I would have or liked having in the past fifteen weeks. I’m sure the further I journey through the grief the less I’ll need some of these, but I know loss happens everyday. I hope this list can potentially help other mommas navigating this journey.

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Grief Work in a Nutshell.

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(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

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What I need on my rough days: hot tea, Jensen’s name, writing, and support books.

*Personalized stamped spoon from jessicandesigns.

Fifteen Weeks & The Painted Name Project.

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It feels unreal that another week has came and passed. It’s the fifteenth week since Jensen has been born. One-hundred and five days have passed. On day one-hundred, I felt the biggest pain, triple digits was hard to wrap my mind around. How could it seem like it was yesterday when he was dancing and moving all around? Seriously, I don’t understand how all of this can be possible. But each day I wake up and rediscover my reality.

I feel like I could go on and on and on about all I wanted to do with Jensen or how I feel like my whole entire future was stolen away from me. Today I’m choosing to have a positive day, even though I want to hide in bed. I know he continues to guide me each day and protect me. He dances in the clouds each and every Tuesday, while he celebrates getting bigger in heaven. In my heaven, he grows until I get up there with him. Then we both go back to being twenty-two and him just born. When I reunite with him there, I want him to be screaming as loud as he can be. My heaven does not include silence.

In this world, I don’t want to keep silent either. I will always say Jensen’s name and keep talking about baby and child loss. It’s really unheard of until it happens to you or someone you know. Believe me, there’s a whole community of parents, grandparents, and other families that are effected by losing a child. Stillbirth results in 1 in 160 pregnancies and baby loss ranging from miscarriage to SIDS happens to 1 in 4. I hope to be able to help every single family out there in just a small way and maybe one day I will.

Today, in honor of Jensen’s fifteenth week in heaven, I want to share a beautiful project that my little Jensen helped to inspire.

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Fourteen Weeks.

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Tuesday, we meet yet again. Instead of the happiness of each passing week I wanted with Jensen, I get further away from my last connection to him. I wish I could say each lessens the pain, but it doesn’t. Moving forward and processing grief is more complicated than that. His absence is so loud and the only thing I can focus on, especially on Tuesdays. I can imagine him everywhere I go, so I’ve been trying to fill the blank spaces with what reminds me of him. Continuously incorporating him so beautifully into our home and always in our hearts.

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Today I can’t keep my eyes off of his new block; his ‘J’ block. It stays in our living room, where his swing would be. I look over there and imagine him so happy and content going back and forth. Then when I’m spiraling into the darkest parts, I look
at his block. His initial means so much to me. Anthony call him Baby J as soon as we found out he was our little boy. I feel like once I got pregnant, J’s popped up everywhere. It seems fitting to keep them in our house and all around me. Even after we have his pictures hanging up, his J will always hold so much hope and happiness for me.

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Wordless Wednesdays.

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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.

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Three Months.

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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.

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The Nevers.

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Unexpected triggers are the worst. Sometimes the most innocent moments that I’ve encountered since Jensen’s birth have been the worst. Then others are literally so obvious, I don’t know how I get into the situation. No matter how innocent or obvious they are, each result in the same thought process. I like to refer to them as the Nevers.

Why the Nevers? Well, usually an obvious trigger involves a baby or child, but the innocent ones result in the Nevers. Never will I hear Jensen tell me he loves me. Never will I know the color of Jensen’s eyes. Never will I know his laugh. Never will I bake him a cake that he can smash into. Never will we have sleepovers for him. Never will I take pictures of his first day of school. Never will I know his favorite pie. Never, never, never, the list goes on and on.

And trust me, I’d never wish the Nevers on anyone.

Most of the time, I don’t try to dwell on the Nevers, but of course, there’s the triggers. My first ever trigger was leaving the hospital without Jensen. All of that. I could never leave the hospital with him. In the passing weeks, I found there were more triggers that stared the process. I avoid Lowe’s and Walmart. Pretty much everywhere there are newborns and kids. Not that I don’t love them and am so happy for their innocence and happiness they bring to this earth, but all of that was taken away the second his heart stopped beating. My first long time Never was setting up for my cousin’s graduation party. It really put everything in perspective. Yeah, I didn’t have Jensen here as a baby, but I’ll never get him as a child, teenager, and adult. I would never be able to plan any of his birthdays or school parties. I would never set up for his graduation and celebrate his accomplishments that will lead him into adulthood. Those Nevers sting and are hardest to break the cycle.

Of course I do whatever to avoid these triggers at all cost, most of the time it hurts others around me. I’m just trying to protect myself. Last night I was caught off guard. Anthony and I were in our safe place and enjoying a treat: Oreos and milk. I dropped my Oreo into my mug, looked down, and it hit.

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Dear Jensen;

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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.

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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.