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Life After Loss

Moving

November 4, 2019 by JT No Comments

Moving on is weird. Part of you feels like it is impossible and you will never be able to “move on”. I don’t even like the term but for lack of a better one that’s the term, I’ll use. When my son passed away, I didn’t think I would make it a week let alone a year. At first, there wasn’t a single moment that I didn’t think about him, not a day, not a second. He consumed my thoughts.

The months following our loss were intense and tough, I was shattered and it seemed that every effort I made to be put back together was in vain because it didn’t work. I could fall apart at any moment. As you live through grief, you learn that grief isn’t linear, that people want you to get over it, that most don’t understand, that you will NEVER be the same, and that you have to go at your own pace.

Like I said earlier, there were many days where all I could think about was my baby, and then days where I only thought about him 50 times. Now there are days where I think of him and don’t break, but there are still days that break me. In this process, you’re hard on yourself when you spend hours thinking about the person you lost and then you’re unforgiving when you don’t. As if you’re somehow betraying your loved one’s memory when you aren’t thinking of them. Grief doesn’t teach us much about balance, grief likes it to be one way or the other.

I won’t let grief tell me what to do, I will learn how to live and grow through my grieving process. No one can tell me what it looks like; no one can tell me how long. Moving from one stage of grief to the other (and then back again) is weird, “moving on” is weird. I have been forever changed by my losses and therefore I will carry the effects of them forever.

 

This post is part of Stirrup Queens #Microblogmondays

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Life After Loss

Planner

August 5, 2019 by JT 8 Comments

I’m the type of girl that LOVES planners. I don’t like putting things on my virtual calendar I like the old-fashioned way of pen and paper. Having a physical planner helps me remember important dates and it helps me jot down important thoughts. Throughout each of my pregnancies I wrote down dates from my Doctor’s appointments, future and current milestones, and I kept pictures of each ultrasound. After my last loss, I couldn’t bear to continue using the same planner I had and it made no sense to buy a planner in October.

2019 started and I could not come to terms with buying a new planner, the pain stung too much. So, for the better part of the year, I went without my hand dandy planner and I decided it was time. After shopping online, going to Walmart, Target, and Barnes and Noble I finally found the one. I bought a planner that I love and that takes me all the way through December 2020!

Although it is just a planner, for me it is much more than that. Buying my planner is a sign that healing is occurring; it is a sign that in that moment I decided that my pain would not hold me back in that area. Though it may seem small, buying my planner was a huge step and a sign of growth. I like planners and had put that part of me on hold, I am glad some parts of me are slowly coming back while others have evolved.

-JT

 

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The Here and Now

Radio Silence

May 6, 2019 by JT No Comments

According to Merriam-Webster, “in the field of communications, radio silence refers, rather straightforwardly, to a period or condition when radios are not transmitting”, there is no communication. I feel like that’s how I’ve been the past 3 ½ weeks; Radio Silent.

So much has happened in the past month that I just don’t know how to update you. I want to tell you all about my most recent adventure, I wanted to write about National Infertility Awareness Week (which already passed), I wanted to write about yesterday the first Sunday in May when International Bereaved Mother’s Day is observed. But instead, there was Radio Silence.

I wish I could say it’s a writer’s block but it ain’t, it’s more of an emotional block. The thoughts of should I really be writing about this? Should I really share what I write about this? Infertility and loss are such taboo and difficult topics, is it really worth writing about? I guess doubt created a block for me.

Either way sometime this week I will be sharing about my Chicago trip and all it entailed, where I am at emotionally and how I have been processing my thoughts regarding loss and living after loss.

 

This post is part of #MicroblogMondays, if you don’t know what that is and would like to know more click here.

 

JT

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Life After Loss

Your Own (Part of the Learning to Live Series)

April 1, 2019 by JT 5 Comments

Grief is a pit that becomes your home, comfortable, familiar, your own.

But there comes a point when you have to learn to live again, taking baby steps again and again. Until living life with joy becomes your home, comfortable, familiar, your own.

Not that you forget why you’ve mourned, but you pack it away and every now and then you visit with your old familiar friend, you sit with her sharing stories and tea, and what once was a pit is no longer your home. It is something that you carry deep within your soul.

It doesn’t end there, for when you begin to live again every laughter will come with pain, every smile will want to take you back down memory lane to the pit that you called home. You’ll feel a pull towards guilt and regret, but you must learn to live again, live despite the pain.

Living life. Not surviving. Not existing. Living with joy, laughing with love, dancing with peace.

Life will become your home comfortable, familiar, your own.

 

– JT

 

I’m participating in Microblog Mondays if you’re interested in finding out more click here. 

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The Here and Now

The Impossible

March 25, 2019 by JT 4 Comments

Today I asked her what she’d like for her upcoming birthday and her response was “the impossible”. I beat myself up for a moment knowing that I know better than to ask that type of question. Knowing that “the impossible” is the very thing I desire and long for as well.

I know that she’s broken but she won’t allow herself to be broken. I know the depth and heaviness behind those two words in her response. Those two words mean so much more than I can express.

“The Impossible” could mean for this to be a terrible dream, “the impossible” could mean that we could turn back time, it could mean that instead of our babies being in heaven they’d be in our arms.

The impossible. Oh, how many times have I asked for the impossible? Too many to remember, too many to count. “The impossible” could mean a million things that will all give us the same results: to bring our babies home.

I’d do anything to give her the impossible. To mend her heart and fulfill her desires, to wipe her tears and give her that one thing, the one person she longs for. But all I can do for now is walk with her, hold her hand and her heart through this heart-wrenching journey. All I can do is reassure that she’s not alone, all I can do is have hope for us both.

-JT

 

 

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