Today has been an interesting day full of little triggers. After a glass of wine, I am able to take a step back and examine the day and what chance has brought to me. The work day was relatively uneventful, as it was another fun-filled standardized testing day. It’s been the time at home that has brought a few unexpected triggers. When I say ‘trigger’, I guess I should specify that a trigger is anything that makes me feel a tad bit vulnerable and makes me hurt more from missing my girl. I arrived home to a package I’d been expecting, a beautiful thing, but an emotional thing. It’s something to honor Lucy and remind others that her light still exists in this world. I was overcome with pride upon seeing it, and feel excited to proceed with the little project Chris and I have in mind for it. I think it triggered my emotions just a bit, in a good way, but any emotion I feel in the wake of Lucy’s passing makes me feel the weight of her loss more. I checked my Instagram, and someone who makes ‘nursing necklaces’ requested to follow me. Nursing Necklaces? Ouch! Just another day in the social media world after a loss. Reminding me that I never got to breastfeed my sweet baby, and that, oh wait, I had to deal with engorged breasts with no baby to nourish. Ugh. Then I checked my email and there was something from Bamboobies and Pregnant Chicken… why again haven’t I unsubscribed to those yet?? I must be a glutton for punishment. Then I did my workout on the treadmill. I’ve been enjoying an escape from reality through watching tv while walking/jogging, and Breaking Bad has been my dark show of choice. The main character’s wife had their baby and the moment that she handed their newborn baby girl to Walter totally annihilated me, because I never had that moment with Lucy… or with Chris. That will always hurt, I think. I miss not hurting. I miss the simplicity of life before, when everything was on track and okay. When my baby was still healthy and thriving. Yesterday I felt strong, but today I feel weak. I guess that’s normal in the life of a warrior mama perhaps. Even when I feel weak though, I have come to the conclusion that I am a warrior… I am strong. Otherwise, how in the hell could I be doing this? Lucy gives me strength.

This was somewhat of a random thought sort of post, but I guess what’s happening is that I am coping with the triggers better than I was before. I am gaining strength with each day that passes, I am becoming better, I am becoming more myself, whatever that self may be. I am almost beginning to think that my sweet little Lucy might have reasons to be proud of her Momma…

After returning home from our little getaway to the Ozarks, and all I can say is that I didn’t want to leave. It was so magical to have a break from our heavy reality; I soaked it all in like a plant in need of sunshine (turned out, we only saw a little sunshine, but it didn’t matter). We rented a beautiful log cabin, explored the adorable town of Eureka Springs, Arkansas, and spent some time in nature. It was magical, a breath of fresh air. I was stunned by the beauty of the rolling Ozarks. Eureka Springs is indescribable… it’s so different than what I’d imagined it to be. Very artsy and cultured. The locals we encountered in the shops and restaurants were kind, interesting, and loved chatting. We both fell in love with the downtown district, and I was absolutely enamored by the lovely homes and historical buildings. Everything is so well preserved, ornate, and beautiful. The whole town is stacked upon itself on the rock faces of the Ozarks, giving it almost an otherworldly feel. Whimsical is the word that continuously came to mind as we walked around. I was ready to drop everything and move there, right to the downtown area in one of the gorgeous, colorful little Victorians that make up the residential part of town. It was so charming, and the first thing I have felt excited about in a very, very long time. I even ‘washed’ my hands in one of the healing springs which the town is known and named for, hoping maybe to soak in some of the magic of the place. On the day we had without rain, we hit the trails with Waggs. The clouds cleared away, the sun peeked out, and we were surrounded by dragonflies and butterflies. I had hoped that Arkansas would be ahead of the curve with Spring (goodness knows Michigan is far behind the curve on that!), and it was… I felt Lucy there with us in the Springtime air, and in the fluttering of the wings of her dragonflies and butterflies as they flew around and past us. It was so healing and comforting. I wanted to stay, I wanted to keep being immersed in the rejuvenation of Spring and sunshine. As we made the long drive back to Michigan, I could feel myself beginning to shift back into reality, like I was slowly deflating. My mood changed. I knew we were coming home to the loss we feel so permanently, back to work and all of its stresses, back to all of the constant reminders. I think that perhaps our vacation changed things for a bit because there were no sad or bittersweet memories of Lucy, because we’d never been there. Not that I’d ever want to forget those memories, because they’re all that I have of her. I do have to admit that initially, I had some reservations about leaving home for days at a time… I was afraid to leave Lucy behind. I was in knots about it actually… do we leave her urn at home? What if something crazy happens and the house burns down and we lose her all over again? What about her memory box? What about her things in the nursery? What about Nelly the Elephant? If I were to take any of those things with me, what if something happens to them? Wouldn’t they be safer at the house? And on and on and on. I knew these were irrational fears, and I managed to calm myself down and decide upon a compromise. I took one of the little glass vials that the nurse had so carefully and lovingly placed a lock of Lucy’s hair. I carefully wrapped it up and tucked it in my things; it made me feel better to have a piece of her with me. The truth of it is, she’s in my every waking thought anyway, so she’s always with me. I guess it just made me feel better to keep a physical reminder near me, that she truly was able to go wherever we went. Pitiful, isn’t it? But it’s all I have.

I’m doing okay I guess, but sometimes I cannot believe that this is my life. When I was pregnant with Lucy, I had that very thought so many times, “I cannot believe that this is my life.” It was because I was so happy. Now, it’s because it’s so hard without my baby. I’m proud of how far we’ve come, how far I’ve come, but if I had a wish, well, you know what it’d be. My whimsical wish will always be for her.

Driving around to different appointments yesterday, I heard on the radio “Good Grief” by Bastille, and found myself singing along to the chorus at the top of my lungs. I miss her. I ALWAYS miss her and wonder what she’d be like right now. 8 months tomorrow, baby girl.

“What’s gonna be left of the world if you’re not in it?
What’s gonna be left of the world, oh
Every minute and every hour
I miss you, I miss you, I miss you more
Every stumble and each misfire
I miss you, I miss you, I miss you more…”

It’s a sunny Saturday, the first day of Spring Break, and we are leaving tomorrow morning for a little getaway to a little cabin in the Ozarks where we can rejuvenate in nature. I should be feeling pretty cheery, but instead, I’m feeling rather low. That’s the thing about loss and grief, there’s never the choice of just deciding not to feel sad, even when I should be happy. What is ‘happy’, anyway? I’m not always sure I remember that feeling fully. I thought I was doing fine yesterday afternoon, but then the unexpected happened. I was switching out our old vehicle registration in the Subaru for the new one, and as I grabbed a few things out of the glove box, I noticed an envelope in my hand. The other stuff fell on the seat as I realized I was holding Lucy’s certificate of cremation. There still are no words that can possibly explain what sorts of feelings such a thing triggers, but I guess I could start by simply saying that it feels like shit. I didn’t even realize it had been put in there, because a part of me has blocked that day out of my memory. That day, when we arrived at the funeral home, I waited in the car while Chris went in to pick up Lucy’s ashes, trying to brace myself for what was next. I vaguely remember holding the envelope then, along with the little cloth bag that held her urn and ashes. I think I put the envelope in the glove box, so as not to bend it or ruin it while I held the remains of our baby girl on my lap all the way home. Thinking back to those days, those moments, brings about a torrent of emotion, and even an air of disbelief. I look at those situations that Chris and I found ourselves in, especially in the early days, and it is hard to believe that we did any of that. How did we do that? How did we make those decisions? How did we survive such an assault upon our lives? It is absolutely unreal, and I can’t believe that those are memories of real events. Since that damn envelope, I have been on the emotional rollercoaster. And rightfully so. I am giving myself permission today to feel what I need to feel, even if there is a little ‘happy’ mixed in there at random.

This morning, while I cleaned up the kitchen, I was missing Lucy with such a heavy heart. I looked at our refrigerator, and saw the sunlight streaming through the skylight and directly onto the ultrasound photo of Lucy that I’ve never been able to bring myself to take down. She was bathed in light. My heart suddenly felt lighter and more broken all in the same moment. For a moment, I was comforted by the coincidence, then a wave of grief washed over me, and I felt the pain of losing her all over again. Completely unexpected. You’d think the waves would be a little less shocking by now, but they aren’t. They still take me by surprise. There is so much missing from me, but at least these moments of grief still bond me to my little girl.