Day one is supposed to be a picture of the sunrise. In our busy school morning routine, I actually remembered to get the sunrise picture. However, I couldn't see the sunrise. It was too foggy. I took the picture anyway.
I thought the foggy morning was appropriate. The sunrise is supposed to signify the beginning of this month and the beginning of this project. Foggy is kind of where I'm at right now. A little over a year after losing my son, I'm not really sure where I'm at in my grief journey. I don't know what stage I'm in or whatever. I desperately miss him. Sometimes his birth and death seems like a dream. It couldn't be real because babies aren't supposed to die, right?
But it wasn't a dream. I joyfully carried a baby boy. I painfully gave birth to him. I sorrowfully buried him. And I desperately grieved for him. I still desperately grieve for him. I miss him. I love him. I want him back.
Having his baby sister has been amazing. Something I couldn't ever describe. It brings a lot of that back though. She was born just over two weeks after his first birthday. I look at her and wonder what he would look like now one year later. I wonder if his personality would have been like hers or more like his older sister.
Some days, I look at his things and I'm overwhelmed by joy because of all that has been done because he lived. Other days, I'm selfish and I only want him back and here with me.
Grief cannot be defined. It is different for everyone. It doesn't make sense. It has no rhyme or reason. Grief just is.
Grief is a tough journey--a lot like making a journey through the fog. Sometimes you can't see where you're going. You push forward unsure of what is next. You trust God to get you through even though you can't see more than two steps in front of you. Because you can't see, you are surprised by obstacles in your path when you come upon them. Some obstacles are good, and some are just tough. Then, sometimes there is a light. You're not sure where it comes from, but it gives you something to walk towards. In grief, that light is hope. Hope that one day, we will see our babies again and a mother's heart can be whole again.