May We All Heal | Remember 


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.

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Pressed Love.

Sometimes the smallest moment can calm the busiest of days.

Today has been high-paced. With only four days to go until I leave, I’ve rushed around my house cleaning and organizing. I’ve been wanting everything just right so I can relax when I get back. To be honest, I got a little off track today. Instead of doing what I had on my list, my books were staring at me. If I had opened them up, all the words written inside of them would have told me to find the right place for them. So embarked my work for today.

I can remember every book I’ve ever bought and read. Usually I can tell you right where they are, but Jensen’s baby books took me by surprise. I had forgotten they were in my bookcase. They’ve just morphed into my normal everyday. Instantly, I put them in his room. Where they should always be, being read and looked through. Surprisingly, I didn’t get triggered seeing them or putting them away in his room. Felt almost like a normal thing to do; picking up Jensen’s things and putting them away. My whole body tensed up when I saw them, but my mind was okay with his books. They still needed to be in their rightful spots.

After getting one of my bookcases done, I had to start on the other one. There were books I read during my pregnancy and that I’ve looked through during my grief. It’s crazy to see how you grow up through certain things, especially with books. Interests change and inside them are underlined or highlighted sentences. I would open them up and flip through just to see what jumped out at me.

That’s when Jensen gave me a moment to slow down my busy day.

Out of a huge, Andy Warhol book fell my little surprise: two perfectly pressed flowers, one orange and one blue. Immediately I knew what they were. They were from the random acts of kindness I did in Jensen’s name over the summer. I didn’t remember pressing any of them, but they instantly brought me to tears. In my mind, I knew it was Jensen picking his mom flowers and bringing them to me. He was telling me to slow down. That it would all get done in time, but to make sure I took time to care for my heart. They not only fell into my hands, but also in my heart. I decided to stop organizing and cleaning for the day and focus on the peacefulness of the snow falling.

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I made Jensen’s favorite drink, just heated up a bit, and framed his gift to me. To me these pressed flowers aren’t just from a bouquet from a random act of kindness, they’re flowers picked from heaven given to me by my angel. He somehow brought me what I had always imagined him doing, just in the middle of winter and through the only ways he knew how. This is what love looks like framed.


The past few days I’ve wanted to share another ornament with you all. As you all know, I haven’t done an amazing job sharing them. I thought this was the perfect one to show today. The little angel in the picture is from Emilia’s mom, Jillian. This little angel shines so bright on the tree. The gold snowflake shimmers and is constantly catching my eye. When I was making hot chocolate, I kept thinking of Jensen. How he shines his light so brightly leading me to what’s best for my day. It was also the first ornament I’ve received from another loss mama. Knowing Jensen was being thought about and how Jillian wanted to comfort me, really warmed my heart. I think of Jensen, Emilia and all their friends watching over us. Some even sending their gifts of pressed love to their parents.

Third from the Top.

Yesterday was the first Tuesday for a very long time that I hadn’t written and shared. It was a busy day for me. I’ve been getting ready for vacation, started writing names for the beach post, and went to a Christmas service for Jensen and his friends last night. On top of all my busyness, I had a horrible headache. When I was sitting at the service, I realized I hadn’t eaten all day. It was already one of those days for me and it hit that I’m back to not eating again. I couldn’t remember the last time I had ate breakfast or lunch for the past few days.

Everything grief related started whirling in my mind. All the names. My longing for Jensen. How his loss has weighed on my heart. The mix of pain and love.

Seeing all those comments on the beach post for babies names to be written, I was so sad. There were too many names on that list, too many families feeling this same grief. Then on the service’s program, there were six full pages of names. Each name was someone’s child and there was Jensen’s, third from the top left on the third page. All those names are more than just names. When I read through them, I couldn’t help wanting to know all their stories and hear their parents beam about them. The names read and pictures shown were only the smallest glimpse into the lives they had and the memories their parents still carry on for them.

When Jensen’s name and picture was shown, my chest instantly felt tight. I couldn’t catch my breath and could only marvel on how beautiful he was and still is. The whole time his picture was up, I didn’t breathe. All I could do was sit there and let every emotion I’ve felt in the past thirty-five weeks flush over me. It was only a few moments, but it felt like an hour sitting there and looking at him. I noticed my hand was tracing my necklace, almost like it was second nature. My body instantly tried making my mind feel better and letting me know I was going to make it through this moment. It’s crazy because I had forgotten I wore a necklace, since I never do when I have a headache. I reached down saw that I was tracing his hand print. That perfect hand and fingers who have touched my heart and life in ways I never knew a person could.

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I know I’ve shown this necklace many times before, but it’s one of my favorite Jensen necklaces I have. It’s been really helpful for grounding during my anxiety attacks, just like I described above. His hand is so near my heart, which is so symbolic. He’s always there, but it just beautifully shows it. Sometimes I wish I could have a tattoo on my face saying I’m Jensen’s mom and I’m grieving. It truly is a mix of emotions. I know in my past few posts I’ve mentioned that I’ve been struggling. December has been really bad for me. Walking into any store is hard. All I want to do is buy children’s Christmas books so I can read to him. So, I can see that hand helping me turn the pages. People don’t get to see this side of grief. They’re not here in my home every night or they don’t see the Christmas book Jensen’s grandma bought him last year during this time. They don’t see that invisible hand pointing to that book or do they hear me reading it out loud to him.

The past week, I’ve longed for every baby to be back in their mothers arms. Grieving Jensen through the holidays is something I never imagined myself doing. I thought I would have to be keeping him quiet or tracing his actual hands during Christmas services. This universe shouldn’t have pages of children’s names written in a program or a list of them to be in the sand. But somehow that list grows longer each and every day.

If I’m being honest, I wish I didn’t know this world. Heck, I wish no one knew this world. Unfortunately, so many of us do. In a crazy, weird way, I’m thankful to be able to be in a position to write those names at the beach. Just like I was thankful to read all those six pages of names and get a glimpse into their lives. This type of grief takes a community to help heal each other. Just as I am so glad to be able to know each of your children, it makes me so very happy you all get to know Jensen.


If you haven’t written your child’s name to be written in the sand yet, please click on Jensen’s Facebook page on the left-hand side or click here. I’m also planning on posting more ornaments in the next few days. There are a handful more that mean a lot to me and Jensen’s story that I think you all will really enjoy.