Waves of Grief

I think about my daughter every single day but I don’t cry every time I think about her anymore. I’m able to think about a fun memory and smile or think about how she would have responded to something if she were here and that usually makes me laugh. She was a stinker! She liked to tease people and she also liked to kick people (mostly me). Haha!

Yesterday was my birthday and one of those days where I cried because I miss her so much. I wanted all my kids with me for my birthday but it’s just not going to happen on this side of heaven. Nobody knows that I cried (until now). I try my hardest not to cry in front of other people anymore. When she first died I couldn’t control it but over the years I’ve learned how to contain it most of the time. There’s a hardening you have to go through after your child dies in order to keep living. For me, I zone out if others talk about something that could be a trigger for me. I can’t allow myself to go there all the time. It’s exhausting being the person who cries all the time and physically aches for the child you buried. I wish I wasn’t the mom who buried her child and that my complaints were only the typical mom complaints of being tired because the baby was up all night (I do have that as well though). I don’t want to be this person who is overwhelmed by things that wouldn’t have phased me before. So many people tell me I’m strong for going through what I have but I honestly feel weak most of the time. Some days I feel like I’ve got it together and I can tackle whatever the day throws at me but those days seem to be few and far between now.

Today was not a day that I felt like I could tackle anything. I didn’t get much sleep and Everett was extra needy first thing this morning. Our little man is also having a minor procedure which is probably what added to my stress and inability to control my frustrations. It wasn’t until the nurses came to take our tiny guy back for his procedure that it really hit me though…the last time I was here for my baby to have a surgery was the one Addy didn’t come home from the hospital after. It’s not that I didn’t know this but it hit me hard when they came to take him. I gave him squeezes and kisses and told him I love him then froze as the memory flashed through my mind. I got this sinking feeling in my stomach and my eyes started to burn as tears tried to start coming. The nurse must have noticed and reassured me for a second time that he is going to be fine and that they will take good care of him for me. I’ve never doubted that my babies wouldn’t be well cared for here. It’s the reason we still come even after Addy died here. I can’t imagine taking my babies anywhere else. I know our doctors care and do everything they can for all children, regardless of a diagnosis. Now I sit here alone waiting for him to come out so I can give him all the snuggles and love when he is done. Stupid covid.

Knowing God has a plan and loves him more than I ever can doesn’t take away all of my nervousness. But I do know if things go wrong (according to man) that my God will always be there helping me keep living his purpose for my life. And he is with our baby boy every step of the way. I look forward to the day when I can share his story and all he has overcome. As of now he should officially be our baby by summer (but things can always change) and I can share all the amazing miracles God has done for our tiny guy. I know God has big plans for our tiny fighter!