Life after loss, Trauma, Stillbirth, Bereaved Mother, Shame, Stillbirth Survivor, abuse, Love, PTSD, Losing control, grief, StillbornEmma Jamesoutofcontrol, stillbornbutstillloved, anger, lifeafterloss, grieving, longing, suffering, newpost, stillbirthsupport, anxiety, achingheart, losingcontrol, love, Postpartum, longingheart, loving, grievingmother, lifeafterlossblog, exhausted, shame, abusesurvivor, infantlosssuppprt, fighter, lifeafterlossblogger, Exhausted, scars, weary, stillbirth, nothingispermanent, stillbirthbreakthesilence, lament, wounds, Stillbirth, confusion, parentingafterloss, abuse, ptsdrecovery, grievingfamily, wounded, loss, stillbitter, stillbirthsurvivor, stillbirthmatters, dadsgrievetoo, stillborn, stillbreathing, grievingfather, postpartum, childloss, lovingyou, newblogpost, grief, marriage, infantloss, stillbornawareness, bereavedmother, waiting, stillgrieving, infantlossawareness, trauma, Bereaved Mother, stillbirthawareness, stillbornstillloved, stillbirthbloggerComment
There’s a deep ache in me that permeates every fiber of my being. A longing. A stillness. A quiet. It’s incomplete and completely painful. It swallows me whole and consumes my existence. It’s presses hard and captures me. I’m suffocating.Read More
I guess I just don’t want people to assume that I am okay, that my husband is okay, that we are okay, or that our family is OKAY. Or to assume that a smile on my face means that I am “better.” That because I hold a babe in my arms, I am over not holding her. That because it’s been a year, life is back to “normal.” We are not fully functioning. We are just trying to make it through another day. Just as pregnancy after loss was unbearably brutal, parenting after loss has been a beast of its own. I look around and see all the ways our lives have unraveled over the past thirteen months. Life still seems so out of control.
After all, I am trying to mother a child who is always missing...that in itself is exhausting and overwhelming and will be part of me forever.Read More
May is here. And May hurts. Because May means you will be gone...forever...until we are reunited in heaven.Read More
Last night while nursing him, he gave a slight resemblance to you, and I remembered staring down at your face in the hospital room in such disbelief. No matter how much I willed you to breathe or to move, no matter how much I begged God to change the outcome, I couldn’t change a thing. I was completely powerless.Read More
Being home with your little brother, I’m so very much reminded of those early days at home without you. I sit on the sofa, nursing him, holding him tight, gazing at his small frame and features, and I listen to the birds sing outside and dive and dance in and out of our yard. And I see you, colorless and empty of life, in a cold, dark hospital room. And I remember how I came home and slept all night, stayed in bed until the afternoon, didn’t eat, and cried every waking hour and in between. I’m reminded of how my body continued to move on without you...Read More