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
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
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
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
My heart knows that if it is truly God’s will, then I may indeed lose again. And I’m struggling to live in a state of acceptance with that truth. Because right now, I want what I want to be what He wants. And I want to understand. To see the bigger picture. And how this journey ends.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
I hated that moment of utter shame, and for some reason my heart is revisiting that space of heartbreak tonight when I felt complete despair and profound confusion. I hadn’t done anything wrong, and yet, I felt like I was being punished. I wanted to die in that moment.Read More
I went to the chapel one night, in the throes of my grief. Visceral memories of her delivery and remembering how I let God into the pain that day entered into my mind and heart. I felt the pain again. All of it. Physical, mental, spiritual, and emotional.Read More
Last week I was ambushed. Under attack. And I couldn’t escape it. Couldn’t find my way out.
My enemy was myself.
My mind. My thoughts. My fears. My anxiety. I made myself a prisoner. A slave to irrational behavior, motives, and beliefs.Read More
So I run. And I look back. Because I wonder if I can out run reality...but it’s catching me. This little girl sees it. And she’s terrified.Read More