There is an ebb and flow to grief. This twenty-first week without Lucy was full of grief flow. There were many factors that teamed up to create the perfect storm as far as my mood and coping abilities went. After having quiet time to allow myself to peacefully deal with my grief, the return to work from the holiday break had me treading some pretty rough emotional waters. Though I’ve said this before, sometimes I am still shocked and frightened by how much darkness can accompany my grief over Lucy’s loss. I was in SUCH a dark place, and it was such a struggle to get through each day. I just didn’t have the energy to put on the whole “I’m okay” mask, and it felt like I just couldn’t do all of the things that both work and grief demand of me. But, in spite of the temptation to quit, I kept going, and I made it through. Barely. There are many times lately when I have to admit to myself that I’m not doing as well as everyone thinks I’m doing. In fact, recently I’ve been feeling as though I’m taking some steps backward in my grief journey, and that the waters have been pretty rough and choppy. Depression has grabbed ahold of me with its harsh claws, and sometimes it makes me feel absolutely hopeless. And that is such a scary feeling.

I’m still seeing my therapist every couple of weeks, and those sessions seem to help and continue to reassure me that I’m not crazy. I explained to her how rough the past week has been, and how defeated I’ve been feeling. She mentioned that perhaps I should consider taking time off from trying to conceive to possibly take some antidepressants. I’ve never disagreed with any of her advice before, but I had to disagree with her on that. I see no shame in taking antidepressants, I am just afraid of skipping over some necessary healing (as difficult as it is to live through that sometimes) by taking some pills. Chris and I are also in the mindset that we want to have another child as soon as possible… we want to be able to give our love to a second child as well as Lucy. Conceiving another child won’t eliminate the hurt and grief, but it would be wonderful to be able to experience happiness alongside forever missing our Lucy. We refuse to give up on that hope, and we must keep trying. Delaying it won’t help us maintain that hope. Hope is what keeps us going right now. So, my therapist and I decided upon more frequent exercise as a helpful solution. The weather has been downright awful and I haven’t been able to take Waggs for long walks like I used to. I also used to work out frequently (I’ve always been a fan of Jillian Michaels and her workout videos!), then late pregnancy and then grief and depression got in the way. I have had zero motivation to exercise, but in the past it has always, always improved my mood. For that alone, it’s worth doing. I’m going to start small, aiming for at least a few days a week, then I’ll go from there. I just need to get back at it by setting an attainable goal, and hopefully that will help improve my emotional and mental states.

I have missed my baby tremendously these past several days. I wander into the nursery more frequently, stealing moments to sit in the rocker and cuddle her stuffed elephant. I continue to draw little hearts here and there, representing her name. I’ve been wearing as many pieces of my “Lucy jewelry” as I can each day to feel closer to her… always something to make that connection, to incorporate her into my daily life. Because that’s all I can do now. It’s helping me get through each day, one day at a time. I am surviving, and perhaps one day will be thriving again. I will keep Lucy with me every step of the way though, no matter how rough the waters get.

My Lucy trinkets…