Where I Am Right Now - 1 year 2 months

Saturday, June 04, 2011
Over at Still Life with Circles, there is a post asking us to blog about where we are in our grief journey. Here is my contribution.

Where to begin? I have mostly good days. Things don't sting quite as badly as they did before. I can see pregnant bellies and not want to run away screaming. I can hold babies and enjoy their sweet little smiles. I still feel a tug though. Just enough of a tug on my heart to still remind me of what I will never have. That being said it's not really a heart wrenching tug, just more of a longing I guess. I've made peace with our decision to adopt and in fact, I am quite content with it. I truly feel in my heart of hearts that this is what we were meant to do. 

Of course it still doesn't bring back Josey. The fact is we lost our daughter. She was stillborn, yet she was STILL born. I think people forget that. She was our baby, our daughter. She was real. I held her in my arms and I miss her terribly. Tears fill my eyes as I sit here writing, remembering. A year and two months later I still miss her, but I don't cry everyday. I can talk about her and not fall to pieces...most of the time. My heart does hurt when I hear my parents talk about how much they love being grandparents. My nephew is beyond precious and rotten, but I get that tug again when I hear them say that because they should have two. 

Overall, I feel like despite the past year I'm mostly in a good place. I will never get over the death of my daughter. I accept that. I can see my dear sweet grandmother sitting in her corner chair, head slightly tilted down, pulling at her hair and telling whoever was listening that you never get over the death of a child. She knew. She lost her son, my uncle, in a car accident. She was right. I remember thinking how sad, but never truly understanding what she felt. I do now. 

As bereaved parents, we choose how the death of our child defines us. I choose to live my life as full as I can.  Unfortunately, some days are still harder than others, but I keep on moving anyway.

7 comments

  1. Beautiful.

    You are doing what Josey would want you to do, trying your best to be happy and make her a big sister.

    I admire you, so much, for your strength.

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  2. Beautiful. Thank you for sharing right where you are.

    Your link on my blog links back to my blog. I will add this post instead, though I can't erase the other one. Just wanted to let you know. xo

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  3. Your last paragraph is beautiful and so inspiring. I feel for you so much. I too lost my firstborn baby girl so I know all too well of your hurt.
    Remembering Josey. I love her name.
    xo

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  4. My heart goes out to you. I'm so sorry for the passing of your sweet baby girl, Josey. I too lost my son to that dreadful condition preeclampsia. Thanks for sharing.

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  5. What a beautiful post.

    Remembering your sweet girl with you...

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  6. This post is beautiful and gets to the heart of so many parts of grief. I remember grieving for my parents loss of their grandson in addition to my own loss. That ache is still there some days. And what you write about your grandmother - I wish I could reach through time and space and give you both a hug.

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  7. What a beautiful post. I am sorry that Josey is not in your arms right now.

    "I choose to live my life as full as I can. Unfortunately, some days are still harder than others, but I keep on moving anyway." Perfectly said.

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