Six months. Today, we celebrate six months of life. It’s your little brother’s half birthday. As I type this, he’s cuddled close to me, sucking on his pacifier, while his softie is nestled into his neck and lullabies lull him to sleep. It’s beautiful. But it stings. It’s bittersweet... I’m overcome with love for him and the joy he brings me to the point that I’m overwhelmed and brought to tears. His breaths fall heavily on my arm, while you remained so still. His little life, in my arms, because your life slipped through my hands. Death literally passed through me, so a new life could be planted. Could grow. Could resurrect from the darkness and bring to fruition a redemption I had not thought possible. There’s so much guilt. But there’s so much love. And grief, it still remains.Read More
I shut my eyes in hopes of dreaming of you. Of finding you. Of you finding me.
I see you in my mind’s eye, and I speak your name on my heart. It rests on my tongue in a quiet sigh. No sound comes out. It’s stifled. Unreleased.
I wrap my arms around my shoulders, clenching myself tightly. I envision the weight of your small body against mine. Leaning into me. Pressing against me. Delicate arms wrapped tightly around me with your tiny jaw embedded into the nape of my neck.
In the bed. Holding you. Holding me. I need you to hold me.
I miss you so much.Read More
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
Missing you deeply today, my love, but finding you in the in between...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
Heart of my heart
Flesh of my flesh.
I want to breathe you in
With my very breath.
Draw you close to me
Near to my heart.
Cling to you tightly,
Never to depart.Read More
That night, at mass, the message of surrender. Giving it all to God. Living with open hands. Wanting God more than anything. The story of Abraham, willing to sacrifice his son for love of God...I felt ashamed. Because in the midst of all of this, if I had a choice, if I could go back in time, if I could write this story’s ending...I wouldn’t choose loss. I wouldn’t choose your death. I wouldn’t choose sacrifice, or this cross, or this grief. I would choose to be your Mom this side of heaven. The words of our pastor carved into me, and I thought I might bleed out, but I didn’t want to release my emotions. I swallowed them down hard and pretended to be unbothered. I was convicted, but not convinced. I was divided.Read More
How is it that you’ve been gone for as long as you were with me? From 38 weeks of growing you, to 38 weeks of life without you.
Time looks so differently.Read More
You know me inside out. You know what I can’t comprehend or articulate.You know me. Let me know who I am. Let me know you.Read More
“O soul, steeped in darkness, do not despair. All is not yet lost. Come and confide in your God, Who is Love and Mercy.” (St. Faustina)Read More
I do not know where I am going. But I need to go SOMEWHERE.Read More
I am learning who I am. And who I am is new. And who I am needs change. Who I am needs “a new song.”Read More
While I was in labor for you, I was told that your vocation is LOVE. My beloved, I also believe that your vocation is to stir others to love more deeply, more simply, more greatly, and without cost. To love without reserve or condition. To reach out to the broken-hearted and hurting. To love people where they are and just sit with them in their mess. Their brokenness. Their hurt. Your love is moving mountains. Your love is moving me. Your love is changing me. Your love is teaching me to receive love. To allow myself to be loved.Read More
I didn’t want to sleep, because I didn’t want to awake and realize that this wasn’t all a terribly bad dream...for my life and for her life. That in our waking moments, we live a nightmare that we will never awake from.Read More