How true is that statement?

I remember a conversation that occurred shortly after our miscarriage with someone who didn’t know it had happened.  It was the end of my work day and I was up at the front desk chatting with a co-worker, when a parent on their way out stopped at the desk to chat.  She had begun asking my co-worker how her pregnancy was going, and when their conversation ended she turned to me and asked the same question.  I admit, I hesitated for a bit.  To me it seemed like minutes.  I looked at my co-worker, hoping she might say something.  It was at most a week that I had been back at work, but I still wasn’t ready to answer this question.  My response was simple, we lost the baby at 17 weeks.  She asked me how I was doing with it all and my co-worker jumped in saying that I was handling it like a champ.

A champ?  I don’t want to be a champ at this.  It makes me sound like I am a winner.  I understand she meant well by it and not in that context.  It also meant that on the outside at first glance it looked like I was handling it all well, even though on the inside I was falling apart and people didn’t really know the hell I was going through.  But a champ? Not quite.

Just a few weeks ago, I heard another perspective on this.  Instead of the word champ being used, it was the word strong.  I have been told I am strong and I will make it through this.  Someone else I know  was asked “you are so strong though all of this, how do you do it?”  My perspective on this statement, as well as her’s was simple.  I don’t really have a choice.  Life is moving forward with or without me.  It would be easier to just stay in bed, shut the world out, in a way give up, and let the world move forward without me.  Or, I could begin to walk this new path one small step at a time, one foot in front of the other. 

Am I going to stumble?  Am I going to take steps backwards? You bet, but I am going to do my best to move forward.   I am going to have bad days, it is going to be tough, but I am going to do it.  Notice I said, move forward, not move on.  I will never move on from what happened.  It will always be a part of me and my baby girl will always be with me.  Right now she is in good hands and some day I will see her again.  This is what allows me to move forward. 

Am I strong?  Maybe, maybe not.  That’s for you to say, not me.  Am I a champ?  No, I wouldn’t describe myself that way.  What I do know, is that this had made me realize a few things.  1) Life is short, I need to fill it with the things that truly mean the most to me.  2) I need to stand up for myself more and let my voice be heard.  3) I am more comfortable now with who I am then I have ever been.  I am not afraid to truly be me.

 “We don’t know how strong we are until being strong is the only choice we have” – Small Bird Studios


Today I visited.  It was the first time back to the cemetery since the service and memorial.  I first stopped at the memorial wall.  We had received a letter in the mail saying your name had been inscribed onto the wall.  I found your beautiful name on the wall.  I touched it. I said it over and over in my mind.  I took a few pictures while I was there.  Then it hit me like a wall.  The tears began to flow-tears of sorrow, tears of frustration, tears of wonder, tears of why, tears of peace.  I went to the grave site then.  Although there was no grave stone yet I could tell that it was the right place.  Could you tell that I was there?  I felt that your presence was there.  Why?… Because as I walked back to the car I heard a cardinal.  And before I opened the car door I began to hear several more cardinals, singing their song.  They seem to say “I’m okay mommy.  I am in good hands”.   When I got home I put a lovely memorial stone your grandma gave us in our garden and place maroon pansies and yellow snapdragons around it.  So delicately a yellow flower had landed on the cross on the stone.  I took several photos of it feeling a sense of peace flow over me.

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