These Days

These days I am still breathing. Trust me when I say that that is an accomplishment.

These days I am trying to choose joy over the grief. Some days I fail miserably at this.

These days my grief has become more internal. I don’t (usually) cry unless I’m alone or with only Patrick. I try not to overexpose my hurting heart.

These days everything feels complicated. Simple, everyday tasks feel impossible under the weight of my own thoughts.

These days no one talks about Josh anymore aside from family. I think this might hurt more than anything.

These days life is still hard. There isn’t a second that goes by that I am not thinking of Joshua. My heart still aches to be his mom. My arms still ache to hold him close.

These days I try and imagine what he would look like, be like now. Curly hair, brown eyes, and his daddy’s smile.

These day I’m still haunted by that week in the hospital. The what-ifs swallow me up. The flashbacks of those moments Friday morning come out of nowhere and they paralyze me with grief.

These days I don’t talk as much about this pain. I think this is why I don’t write here as often. It has become harder for me to say how I really feel. The grief has become more personal now and exposing it to the world just doesn’t always feel right.

These days I smile more. Despite everything I still have reasons to smile. My husband is amazing, and at the end of every rough day I still get to lay my head on his shoulder and know that he loves me, and that alone is enough reason to smile.

These days I know that we will survive this. I mean, after all, we already are surviving this. I know we will be okay. We will be happy. We will forever be changed, but pain will not win the battle over joy.

These days I am hopeful. I still want to be a mom more than anything. I want to watch Patrick be a dad. I want a baby so much it physically hurts. Yes, more than anything I want Josh, but I know that I cannot have him this side of Heaven and so I long for his brothers or sisters. I long to love him through them. Patrick and I were ready to be parents when we were expecting Josh. That hasn’t changed. We are still ready. Our hearts are open and ready to love our babies, all of them.

These days the future doesn’t look as dark. The light has come back into our lives and it is a very much welcomed guest in our home.

These days I am learning that grief is okay. It is okay to still grieve. It is okay to be sad. It is okay to cry. It is okay to still wish I could turn back the hands of time and change everything. It’s okay. I’m learning that it is possible to be both happy and sad within the same moment. Grief doesn’t have to completely disappear in order to let the joy back in – I just have to be sure it doesn’t try to take over completely. And even when it does, I know that’s okay. I know that soon the joy will seem bigger than the grief and pain. I know that I am still blessed in so many ways. I even know that I am blessed to be Josh’s mom, even if it’s not the way I had hoped it would be. I am still blessed by him daily.

These days I am still here. Still trying to figure out where life will take us next.

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