I’m Not Always OK.

It’s been one month and one day since my little one was born earthside, and heaven-born about a week before.

My heart still aches.

There isn’t a day/hour/moment that goes by that I don’t think of my baby.

And while time doesn’t heal all wounds, God sure does.

We have joy, and peace, and comfort while we mourn, knowing that we’ll see our little one again. We just have to wait a bit longer than 9 months.

And it’s getting easier, but there are still moments.

Moments that tug at my heart, bringing tears and rawness. Moments that remind me of the loss of our dream.

My young 5-year-old son trying to quantify our grief as we told him his little sibling passed away. He started at 100 and kept adding numbers, each time asking “mommy, are you this many sad?”

The glass of wine I drank each night for a week to calm my anxiety enough to go to sleep.

The bills we started getting less than a week after the ER visit.

Putting away the maternity clothes only a week after getting them out. And now the empty space where these clothes once hung.

Writing in my journal, documenting these days of grief. Seeing it sit on my nightstand, anxious because I haven’t pulled it out in two weeks – too emotionally exhausting.

A piece of me will always be broken.

But I pray each day that God uses that broken part of me to teach me how to love; to love others, to love my family, and to love Him.

All images and content are protected under US copyright laws, please do not copy and paste.