Thankful

I know it's been a while since I've updated the blog. I felt like I just couldn't find the words to write recently, even though I wanted to.

Grief comes in waves. It's not a constant companion like it was before. I feel like it's more intentional now. Something I know I need to do, and in some way, I enjoy doing. It's the difference between a good cry and a bad cry. When I look at his pictures and weep for a while. Or touch the spots on his blanket. Or when I go through the messages I received during and after my hospital stay. Or telling a friend my story. It's a good cry. I want to feel it when it happens. I feel better when I'm done.

Day-to-day I'm doing better. I keep myself busy with housework and a new love of cooking that I honestly can say I've never had before.

I am so thankful. Thankful for support and caring friends. Thankful to God for His grace to get through each day. But most of all, I'm thankful for the few good memories I have of my experience. Memories I can look back on with a smile and a feeling of peace.

I remember the day I found out I was pregnant. I was so happy and excited. I couldn't believe it. I took the test on my lunch break at work because I really didn't think I was pregnant, I just wanted to check. I remember calling Matt and his response being "Oh man...Ok...Oh man." An underwhelming response, but that's just how he reacts to things. It didn't hit him until we were watching What To Expect When You're Expecting. At the end, when they were (spoiler alert) all having their babies, he started crying (a very rare thing) and realized that he was going to be a father. That was such a wonderful evening. It was probably one of the last times that I wasn't stressed during my pregnancy. I look back on it and feel happiness and excitement for what's to come, not a longing for what could have been.

I remember a few weeks before I lost him, we went to the beach. There was a scare in the beginning, but when we were in the ocean I had fun for the first time in a long time. I splashed in the waves with Matt without a care in the world. I look back on it and remember how relaxed I was, not how stressed and anxious I was the rest of the vacation.

Finally, I remember holding him in my arms. Expecting to feel shattered and broken, but somehow feeling peace for just a few hours. I got to know my baby boy in a way that some mothers never get to do with the babies they lost. I was able to give him kisses and tell him how much I loved him. And I wasn't scared for those few moments. I wasn't scared of trying again. I had hope in the middle of a raging storm of emotions and pain. That time with Matthew was, without a doubt, a gift from God. And it was the greatest gift He could ever give me. The memory of holding my son will never leave me. I remember it and feel peace and hope, not brokenness. And for that, I'm eternally grateful.