What I Wish They Knew

• I am still grieving 

Yes, I might be smiling. Maybe I'm even laughing. And you know what? Sometimes it's not even fake. Often though, its the way I survive crowds. So even though I may look like I'm not grieving every moment, I am. Many things can trigger my grief. A baby's cry, a song about death, a song about praise, the car seat sitting in my entryway, empty. Each thing brings back the pain that is just beneath the surface. So if I'm smiling, please don't think I am "over it". Getting over it is not on my agenda and never will be.

• There are actually good days

Each day is different, but I'm surprised to realize that some moments are good, and sometimes even "normal". I guess it's all part of healing. 

• It's going to be awkward 

All of us hate awkward moments. What is there to like? It's weird and quiet and simply unfun. But please know that we who are hurting live in those moments a lot. Sometimes I don't have tons of things to say, especially in the middle of a crowd. But having someone there, caring about my heart and the pain means so much. Let it be awkward if it has to be. It's better than letting a hurting person stand alone.

• I am afraid too

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm guessing it's kind of scary talking to someone like me, especially soon after the heart ache begins. It has been scary for me in the past as well, watching someone I know grieve.

Just so you know, I get scared too. I get scared that I'm talking about my baby too much. It's a fearful thing to embrace vulnerability. I get worried about people being scared of me. I sometimes feel very alone. So, like the last point, why not be scared together? I think the bravest people are the ones who have reached out with a word or text or letter, even when they are scared about how it will make us feel. To those who have done that for us: THANK YOU.

• Daddys grieve too

Though mamas may grieve differently, daddy's are grieving just as much. Please remember the daddys who lost their child! They come home to a quiet house and a sad wife every day. They have their pain to work through and feel responsible to be there for their wives as well. They need support too.

• My heart and brain get confused

I don't know if it's "mommy brain" or grief, but often when someone asks me question, I have to dig deep into my subconscious to find the answer. Sometimes the answer is unavailable due to the pain and clutter filling my mind.

• I want my baby to be acknowledged 

Every time I meet someone for the first time since Pearl died, I watch to see if they are going to talk to me or ignore me. (Remember the fear of being feared?) Then if they do approach me, or we end up talking, I listen for something in acknowledgement of my little baby's life. Anything will do, a hug, an "I'm sorry", an affirmation that Pearl's life mattered. Sometimes I wonder if I'm expecting too much. Sometimes I remember that I can be the one to talk about her. No matter what, it is so important to me that my daughter is remembered, and that we are not forgotten either.

• People who care mean so much to me! 

Our community and friends have done so much for us! I have learned in the midst of losing Pearl India, that we are so blessed with more friends than we knew we had. They brought food, they cried with us, they planned and coordinated, they showed love and support, they sent gifts and flowers and cards, they prayed. So for anyone who has been there for us: THANK YOU!

{This is just a list of things we face and ways we look for support and encouragement, however, grief has no cookie cutter. If you are grieving your own loss, please share things you find encouraging.}