“Later my sister, Diane, told me that the quickest way for anyone to reach the sun and the light of day is not to run west, chasing after the setting sun, but to head east, plunging into the darkness until one comes to the sunrise.

    I discovered in that moment that I had the power to choose the direction my life would head, even if the only choice open to me, at least initially, was either to run from the loss or to face it as best I could. Since I knew that darkness was inevitable and unavoidable, I decided from that point on to walk into the darkness rather than try to outrun it, to let my experience of loss take me on a journey wherever it would lead, and to allow myself to be transformed by my suffering rather than to think I could somehow avoid it” (33-34). 

I mulled over this idea and realized I had to do the same. I often told Kyle that I felt like grief was chasing me and I was stumbling, trying to escape it’s grasp. I would fake cheerfulness and smiles to avoid facing the reality that my baby died, inside me.

Well as soon as I decided to really accept the darkness, it came. It is as dark as I imagined. I would fall apart at seemingly trivial things and I would emotionally check out. As I would check out, my mind would race over who I was and what I was doing. In the darkness, I confronted the very worst in myself. I felt guilt and above all total selfishness. Anger for my own selfishness and fear crushed me. I felt as if I could never be good and therefore I could never be happy again, it was complete depression. Kyle would leave and take Max to the park and I would burst with tears and shake and pray that someone would ring the doorbell and come to my rescue. In my darkest moments I would think that everyone would pretty much be better off without me. Not in the sense of ending my life, but in the sense that the worst parts of me brought misery to everyone else and I should leave to prevent more harm. As I struggled to pray, these thoughts would overwhelm me and I would think, Why is no one here? Why am I alone in this? But truthfully I had to be. For when you are truly alone and no one is physically there to scoop you up and rub your back, that is when the Savior enters.

I have heard it described by some as a “swooping in” feeling. But for me it was merely a small positive reassurance. I was not lost beyond repair. As soon as I held onto that morsel of truth, more truth would come.  My selfishness is my weakness, but that weakness could be made a strength. I could be happy again. Slowly the light would come and I could get my bearings again. I could palpably see and THINK truth.

The darkness must come, it is necessary to enter it when accepting grief. But in darkness, you cannot truly see. So you grasp what is handed to you, and much of that are lies in the form of twisted truths from Satan. Of course I have selfish tendencies, but in darkness that was all I was given for awhile and so I thought that was all I was. It is terrifying to examine oneself so drastically but even when in complete darkness, you cannot stop praying for light. I truly thought it would never come, that I was set up for complete misery forever. It can come, ever so slowly, but you must let it in.You must not let go of that small shred of hope that if others are happy, you can be as well.

Now, I don’t write this to cause alarm or worry. I write because I need to be heard. I need others to know that this is indescribably hard. I need others to know that I am not always as cheerful as I look.

During the buoy period I told others that I would let them know when I needed help. But I didn’t realize that when you need it most you are paralyzed to ask because you don’t know what you need. It is a sad truth, but a truth nonetheless. So of course I need help, but please don’t ask what I need, because I don’t know.

So here I am. Letting you really know how I am, where I am. Sometimes a shadow wins. But, you only notice the shadow when there is light to create it; I am so grateful for that light.

It is like I fell through a crevice in the universe and now I am living some parallel version of my life. If I look over I can see that other life. I see sleepless nights and the stress of a move but I also see quiet moments of awe and wonder and cuddles and breathing in that newborn smell. But that is not my life.

At the same time, as I live in my parallel universe, I look over and around and see everyone else’s life going on as usual. I want to shake them and force them to see that EVERYTHING has changed. Why can’t they see that?

The sad truth is that people don’t mean to be insensitive but sometimes they just are. To them it has been nearly two months since James and to me it happens over and over and over again. The shock, the sudden turning upside down of everything that was. I am stuck on repeat while everyone else “moves on.”

It is exhausting to grieve. So exhausting that it is easier for me to put a smile on my face and keep busy busy busy and give myself things to do to fill the void that James left. Maybe to the outside it looks like I am doing okay, that I am moving forward and upward but as C.S. Lewis said,

“For in grief nothing “stays put.” One keeps on emerging from a phase, but it always recurs. Round and round. Everything repeats. Am I going in circles, or dare I hope I am on a spiral?

But if a spiral, am I going up or down it?

How often — will it be for always? — how often will the vast emptiness astonish me like a complete novelty and make me say, “I never realized my loss till this moment”? The same leg is cut off time after time.”

I am stuck in that spiral and I suspect I will be for awhile. I am okay with that and I don’t expect to be full rescued for awhile. For now I am rescued in moments where I am crying on the floor and my precious son come over to rub my back.  I am carried by angels both her on earth and in the heavens who answer prayers. I am rescued by my increasing knowledge of the mercy and grace of God.

And I don’t say that lightly. I don’t always want to vent and have this awkward “but God is still good” clause at the end of every post but I always feel it necessary to remind not you (whoever might be reading this) but to remind myself. Amid this crappy situation I am drawn to Him. I am drawn to Him for answers, for peace, for guidance, for light when the darkness feels as if it will consume me. How blessed that light feels when it comes, how grateful I am for those who say and do exactly what I need to help lift and guide me towards rediscovering what I have always known; Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love me.

So with that knowledge, I will begin another journey up the spiral. 

Today I turn 25. I never imagined that I would be where I am today, but here I am and I want to take advantage of my birthday platform. You get wishes on your birthday, one technically, but I am going to tell you a couple of mine. Some are completely unrealistic, some totally possible.

First let’s get the unrealistic ones out of the way. If I had one wish it would be that for a little while no one would be pregnant or have a newborn. I know how impossible this is but it is a wish nonetheless. It can be excruciating to realize that people have normal pregnancies and get that beautiful breathing, heart-beating newborn. My life is shadowed by a dark reality of life that most (thankfully) will never have to experience and sometimes it seems like a cruel joke when someone announces a pregnancy or cuddles their baby. Obviously they have nothing against me, it’s just the mourning and grief talking but still it seems as if almost everywhere I look, everyone I know is sunk down deep in happy baby bliss. I just don’t want to deal with it for a little while.

Another completely unreasonable wish…can someone just send me to Hawaii for a week? No explanation needed really for that one.

Now for the real stuff. If I could ask one wish it would be that everyone would be the good in the world. Seek for it, be it, spread it. There is so much sadness and heartache and affliction naturally. If you can help it, which you can, don’t help that awfulness spread by holding grudges, neglecting what is truly important, or procrastinating true happiness in your life. Take the good risks, the ones that scare the crap out of you. Pursue the opportunities for growth in your life. Sometimes those opportunities are hidden behind negative opinions of world or sometimes the growth aspect seems incredibly difficult, in fact it might seems so difficult you are avoiding it at all costs. Don’t. Grow, build yourself up into a more beautiful, stronger, kinder person.

I hope and pray especially that the world will come to truly know who God is and how much He loves each and every one of us. There is so much possible when we see ourselves through His eyes. Believe that your worth is infinite and that you have value and purpose to this world. Because you do.

My days ebb and flow with revelation, numbness, inspiration, and aching. I get out of the house, I read books, I read my scriptures, I try my best to play with Max, and I visit with people. I tell them that it all seems like a dream or that I am living someone else’s life. To be honest, when I look in the mirror I do not recognize this new girl in front of me. She seems much older, and sorrow flicks behind her eyes.

Sometimes I worry if I am grieving correctly. I know that there is no one “right” way to grieve, but there is certainly a best way for yourself and sometimes I wonder if I am doing what is best for me. You see, I only really cry at night. Every now and then it will hit me during the day, but never in front of others. I have this thing about crying in front of people and it seems to have stuck even during this trial I face. So sometimes I wonder when people are asking me questions about how I am doing if they are secretly wondering why I am not sobbing before them.

I was trying to figure out why I cry at night. Why is it when Max is asleep and Kyle is in bed waiting for me to join him that it really hits me and I sob, sometimes to him and sometimes by myself, praying as the tears fall. Then I realized. I realized that when I last held James was around ten o’clock at night and that is when my arms truly ache to hold him again, to feel the weight of his body and to stroke his face. I miss him, I miss all the possibilities I had imagined for him. At night is also when I feel the most safe with my emotions, I can cry without interruption, I can pray for as long as possible. I can grasp for myself how I am really doing.

I don’t know how to respond when people ask “how are you doing?” and luckily someone read to me a blog post of another mother who is going through the same exact situation and her words perfectly described how I feel about that question, click here to read it yourself. Read this while you are at it.

A midst all of this heartache and sadness I feel blessed to say that there truly are happy moments each day. I have an immense appreciation for all those who reach out to me and serve me in big and small ways. Everything adds up and means a whole lot to me and to my family. My love for Max and Kyle has grown infinitely and it has brought me so much joy to feel so much more love for them. Like I predicted, James is impacting my life in a great way and helping me to grow so much more than I could have ever imagined. It does not take the pain of his loss away but to know that I am making something of this loss is what gets me out of bed in the morning, it is what comforts my soul when I cry at night.

We really didn’t know what was next, but it was that Gina was to face the pain and sorrow of labor in the face of this horrible turn of events.  My heart just ached for her and couldn’t really imagine what dread filled her at the news of this daunting task ahead.  The rest of Friday was to be full, but we knew that starting labor at 2 in the morning wouldn’t be a good idea, so we went home and thankfully found rest quickly.

It has not rained here in over a month and so I couldn’t imagine that the weather report was correct in predicting scattered thunderstorms for the day of James’ funeral. I asked for others to pray for good weather, all I wanted was a little sunshine to make the day seem less sad. I couldn’t sleep the night before focusing all my thoughts on the rain outside my window. Really?!? I thought. Maybe it is getting it all out now at 3am so that it will just be overcast for our 9am service. But the rain didn’t stop and Max woke up early and luckily we didn’t have to entertain anyone and could just focus on getting ourselves physically, emotionally, and spiritually ready.

I also stressed the week before trying to find a dress for the funeral. I don’t like the color black, I never have really and I certainly did not want to wear it to James’ funeral. I searched and searched and stressed and eventually told Kyle that maybe I would just go naked. But I found a dress that fit how I was feeling perfectly and things started falling into place.

The night before the funeral though I told Kyle that I wasn’t going. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t face the reality that all the real outward manifestations of James’ life were coming to a close. This would be the last thing and would people expect that after we buried him that all the sorrow and pain would just float away and our lives could get back to normal. I realize that this might seem ridiculous to think and I know that no one really expects us to move on quickly or that the pain of this trial doesn’t linger  but sometimes I look around and wonder if anyone really gets it.

So we go to the cemetery and there are tents and luckily there was a still a fuzzy blanket in the back of my car so that I can keep warm and we sing Nearer My God To Thee and our family friend/old institute teacher speaks and says exactly what Kyle and I need to hear. He said that God would right all the wrongs of this world and our joy would be so immense when that day comes. It softened my heart. Then I spoke, I spoke of James’ influence and the impact that I hope he would have on all those who knew him. I hope that people live good lives for his sake. To make good choices, to choose the right when it isn’t easy, to be a kind person. Then Kyle spoke and said things that he says often to me, reminding me of God’s love of his infinite wisdom and the growth that is already taking place in our marriage, our family, ourselves.

He then dedicated James’ grave. That it would be a holy place, a safe place and that we would see James again.

Then we sang I know That My Redeemer Lives and we took some photos beside James’ casket and Kyle looked at me and asked, “Are we supposed to smile?” It was a legitimate question and now I look at these pictures and see that my smile is forced a bit, but just a bit. Because in all reality during the hardest, most real moments of facing this trial there has been such a peace and such a comfort that I have been able to truly smile amidst it. I know that James is not lost and that he will forever be mine and so even though funerals for babies are kinda the worst, I can still smile and remember the blessings promised to me and my family and yes, we can smile.

Ultimately the rain was fitting, I reminded myself of what rain does. It washes and cleanses and gives nourishment to the earth and it could do the same for us. We are starting a new normal now and a rain shower was a good start.

1.Messages of love. We have received Facebook messages, texts, notes, and cards that express beautiful words of sympathy and love. I love when they remind us that someone is thinking about us, about James. It reminds me that someone hasn’t forgotten. For the first week they were numerous and lovely and I know they will taper off because they already have but it never ceases to ease my heart when I get that surprise message.

2.Flowers and care packages. We have received beautiful flowers, art, books, and care packages. One of the care packages was so perfectly timed I knew there had been some divine guidance in its arrival. We had just come back from the funeral home, making arrangements and my heart was heavy. Coming home to a care package full of things that just brightened the horizon for a moment. It had some beautiful necklaces, nail polish, lotion, etc. I am not beneath saying that a necklace can brighten my spirits. It can. It might help someone else too 🙂

3. Food. Our church support system is amazing and quickly after the news broke we had meals lined up for us. When you are grieving it can be hard to fix a meal, even to remember to eat so having food at the ready (especially when you have to feed a toddler) is a wonderful blessing. Beyond delicious dinners, friends have brought over snack food and fed me lunch. I especially love when the food is healthy. Emotionally and mentally we are hurting and our spirits and minds are trying to heal, it is important to remember that comfort food is good but don’t forget nutritious food. We have been lucky to receive delicious salads and fruits that keep our physical bodies feeling great so that we don’t have to worry about that along with everything else.

4. Say James’ name. This might not be for everyone but for me at least, I like when people say James’ name. It can be hard for me to hear at times but it reminds me that he was a real person and that the rest of the world views him that way. Ultimately, I love it. Having a stillborn can be hard but add onto it the fact that very few people saw your baby and it just feels like a bad dream. When people ask questions about him and say his name themselves my heart swells with mama pride. It feels good.

5. Financial assistance. Being grad students our ability to cover funeral costs was a scary thought that luckily didn’t cross our minds for long. We have wonderful people around us who were immediately willing to pitch in and it has eased our minds greatly. We, personally, have no more need for financial assistance but if you have a friend going through a trial similar to this and you are able to help financially, try to.It doesn’t have to be a lot, the smallest amount helps with things like flowers and something nice for them to wear to the funeral if they are having one.

6. Hugs. Now I am not a natural hugger. It was just not something we did in my family growing up but I have grown fairly used to them. For me personally, I like meaningful hugs that are not drawn out. Some people might like the tight, long hugs but they can be very hard for me. Usually they just bring everything to the surface and while I need that sometimes, I usually know when I want it all to come out. So, give a hug but don’t drag it out so long that it feels like you are planting all of your sadness for them on top of them. Hug them with all the love you have for them, hearts connected. True love is not stifling and clingy, it is pure and delicate and intuitive. Gauge what they need and give accordingly.

7.Playdates and get togethers. I like getting out of the house and my son needs it especially. Unfortunately all of our usually places we go I am not ready to return to because of all the questions about my non-pregnant state that I will receive. We have been so blessed to have friends who text and call to see if we want to get out of the house. My answer is always yes, unless it is during Max’s nap, Kyle is home, or I am having a hard day. Having people reach out to me and scheduling playdates is ideal, it can be hard to ask for help when you are grieving even when you know people are willing to give it. Along with playdates, having people who want to visit us or have dinner with us is also great. The focus is largely on me currently but when people reach out to our entire family my heart is eased tenfold. Sometimes it is for games, a BBQ, dinner, just to chat but we are usually very willing for a welcome distraction.

8. Don’t forget the husband. The focus is largely on me and I keep telling people, as long as Kyle is ok then I am ok. But if he is not doing well, you can bet I won’t be doing well either. When people remember him in their thoughts and how hard this is for him as well, it means a great deal to us both. It can be hard for guys to express grief and having people reaching out to Kyle has been huge for him. It might be to go fishing or to go play basketball or go on a hike, but just don’t forget the husband.

9. Pray. Remember us in your prayers and pray to be guided in how you can help. I have a HUGE testimony of prayer now. It never ceases to quell my anguish and bring so much peace and I know that as people have prayed on our behalf we have received peace and comfort in our hearts when it gets really hard.

10. Be careful. Be careful with your words, your actions, your intentions. Make sure they are pure and filled with love. I have read so much about people who are hurt during their trial by well meaning words and acts but for some reason or another were received the wrong way and it seemingly intensifies their hurt. I feel lucky that this has not been the case with us. People have said the right things at the right moments and have laughed and cried with us. They are tender and gentle when we talk of James’ and laugh and share their joys with us.

11. Live your life with compassion, intention, and joy. The thing that bugs me most are negligent parents, whiny teens/adults, and people who I know are waiting to take that opportunity that is scary and requires a whole lotta faith. One of the greatest ways to honor James’ memory is to live a good life. Don’t fill it with useless, meaningless trinkets and ideas. Put your family first and love them, hug them, kiss your babies and hold them when they cry. Don’t delay the love in your life.