Awareness Months. They are wonderful and needed to bring perspective to those in the world who don't personally know the journey. At times, they can be celebratory months, but they also often mark a time that people remember the pain, the hurt, the sadness, the trauma, and the triumph over it all.

So October 1, here we are. Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Month. What the world may (hopefully) see this month is posts, words, pictures, events, candles and faces of people who have walked this journey. 1 in 4 pregnancies ends in a loss. That number is significant. If you have not personally walked it, it wouldn't take you long to find someone close to you who has. 

I remember after Henry died, I didn't understand pregnancy announcements anymore. Did the perfectly posed, curated photo matter? "Mom and baby are doing great" is what most say. What this should really read, NOW in my mind is, (all caps) "A HEALTHY CHILD HAS BEEN BORN INTO THE WORLD. MOM AND BABY ARE HEALTHY AND THAT IS A MIRACLE." Now, I'm sure people want to remain humble and don't often speak/type in all caps but it is truly a freakin' miracle that babies are conceived and born into this world. If it is not lost on you how miraculous it all is - KUDOS to you! A NICU nurse sent me this:

I just think of the actual incredible miracles happening in Labor & Delivery every moment of every day. And the NICU is home for even more miracles of little fighters and strong families who have endured excruciating trauma to get their baby home safely - if they are blessed to be able to take their baby home. And with the miracle of conception and birth comes the realization and miracle of LIFE itself. It's a miracle we are all alive right in this moment. Truly. 

When I look back on the past few months (August through September 2022), and the last 380 or so days in general since Henry's death in September 2021, I'd like to take a personal moment to reflect back. I don't need public pats on the back for surviving, but I'd like to share a little bit more about what it's like to walk in these bereaved mother shoes.

September 2021: A Recap

Coming up on one year of "Henry" meant that the anxiousness and the nerves really started in like...August. I've learned that the dates leading UP to the dates are always WAY worse, more stressful, and just all around harder to get through. So I kept myself busy in August with things that would distract me enough - while also leaving so much space to just do whatever I needed to do. I'd like to think I've gotten really good at that. And also it's still very much a work in progress. 

Grief has been felt really physically for me. I hold my tension in my upper back and neck and that radiates outward into tension headaches, tinglyness in my arms, wrists, fingers and more. It's REALLY really fun. So fun. Doesn't that sound fun? 

But in all seriousness, it takes me DOWN. It's debilitating. Like sends me to full on surrender of anything that may have been on my to-do list for that moment or the day or the entire week. And then those scary symptoms just melt away as quick as they came. August was just a lot as we were living in anticipation of September and September 1-12 was a lot emotionally too. I had these ideas of how I wanted to celebrate and then had many "aha" moments, again filled with surrender, of just how much I could take on. I'd like to think Henry was helping to remind me "stop doing too many things mom, GOSH, just relax, I know you love me" :)

Early September brought the anniversary dates and memories of me being 39 weeks pregnant one year ago, Henry's Birthday on 9/10 and the anniversary of the PTSD that followed his entrance into the world, along with the anniversary of his death on 9/12. It was also NICU Awareness Month which for me brings about a ton of reminders and memories, traumas and anxieties of our time with Henry in the NICU. Grandparents Day is 9/11 which divinely was thee day that all 4 of Henry's grandparents got to North Carolina to meet him and hold him one year ago. We celebrated Henry's birthday and the days surrounding it in the North Carolina mountains and Henry showed up in some sneaky cool ways. Maybe I'll share those at the end! When we got back from the mountains, my sister, her husband and my nephew had strategically planned a visit so we got to check the other coast of NC out with them for some chill time at the beach. (Living in central NC is pretty cool when you can be in the mountains in 3 hours and at the beach in 2.5 hours). At the end of their visit I started feeling pretty sick and the day after they returned home several of us tested positive for covid. Blah! And when I say it took me down, I am not lying. I am thankfully on the other side now but I was out for about a week with all the symptoms. Again, was this Henry telling Mom to just chill out for awhile? Potentially :) To mark the end of September, because why NOT, I experienced my first "hurricane". He was named Ian. Central NC did not get hit very hard but many did lose power and it was a stormy/windy/rainy day. I smiled thinking...well...if there's one way for September to come to a close I guess illness and a hurricane are two ways to close it all out. 

So here we are, October 1. I'm proud to be here. To have made it. I'd like to think that Henry helped plan his arrival to Earth in September because he knew his Mama loves fall so much. October IS my favorite month and so each year if I can just make it through late August and September...October is just on the other side. 

I'm proud of myself. In the most humble, Midwestern way possible, of course. Surviving the loss of your child is too complex for words. Losing your child feels like the world falling out from you completely, shattering into a million pieces on the way down, and then trying to learn how to live again as you pick up pieces and make a new way. Not with the "you" you always had been before, but with the new you. The you that is now a bereaved mother with one hand on Earth and one hand in heaven. 

For the most part, what the world sees on the "outside", is just scraping the surface of it all. As we grieve every moment of every day, we've also had to find moments of lightness, goodness and hope to cling to. So when someone sees you with a smile on your face, it's painful to realize that they probably think "it's all better now, whew! I'm glad that's behind us now". Unless someone truly and personally understands grief, and specifically those that understand pregnancy and infant loss, most people don't understand that although you may "look" like you're healing and not crying tears in a specific moment of time when they see you, the pain, hurt, grief, etc can still blindside you like no other. And of course, it always does when you least are expecting it. You are still living with grief and loss...long beyond the world recognizing that it has come into your life.  They may want to think that it has gone away, but the reality is that it's here to stay. As long as your love is around for your child, your grief will be there too. 

I was at a red light a couple weeks or months ago (I honestly don't remember, what is time?). And I sat there smiling at the message on the back of this truck. I've heard other angel Moms mention that it sucks when someone is visibly uncomfortable with them bringing up their baby that died. Even if it's in a more upbeat or light hearted way - a lot of people still get uncomfortable. Most people don't know how to process emotions of sadness, death, trauma, etc, etc. And although it sucks to feel like you are breaking all the "windshields" around you, all the time, I find strength in the idea that our angels have truly made us stronger. Not everyone will learn in their lifetime, what our angels have taught us. They have taught us that it's okay to sit with someone through a hard time. It's okay to get close and be there for someone, even if your emotions will over take you at some point. The tears are love. True love. 

So to each of you who have helped me navigate the past 380+ days, I am truly forever grateful for your companionship and your willingness to get close in the hard and painful and "there are no words for this" moments. To our families - I don't know how you all just truly "get it" but you have continued to show up for us in truly remarkable and loving ways. To my husband - I am forever grateful that becoming Henry's parents has made us stronger as a couple. It's not lost on me that that does not always happen. Thank you for walking each day with me as my true rock. And to our Henry - you are the best. Although we are reminded of the immense loss of you every single day, and throughout each and every day, you and God have teamed up to continue to bring us people and places and moments that we could have never planned for ourselves. You have brought us so much and we love you so much.

Ah, also! I said I'd share the special ways Henry showed up in spirit on his birthday:

-Great weather for exploring on every day BUT his actual birthday. We were forced inside our cabin in the mountains to spend time together in our cozy cabin, Murphy napped, we had football on TV. I journaled a bit and painted and Scott read a book. We made grilled cheese and "steak & birthday cake" for dinner and it rained the ENTIRE day. It was everything we needed. When I say it rained all day I literally did not stop raining/sprinkling the whole day. 

-Shortly after midnight to mark Henry's birthday, Scott and I were both awake because the motion detector light outside was right by our window. It went off every 5 minutes or so from 12:30-3AM. I'm normally a scaredy cat in situations like this but we kept peeking out the window to see what we could see. Nothing. There was nothing in sight except little tiny bugs that would NOT have set off a motion detector. I told Scott that I felt like Henry was with us to mark his birth date with his parents. 

-This is a little bit sillier but honestly, still crazy! We were staying in a cabin so we had not quite figured out the stove or the grill yet. And it was rainy so we weren't sure the grill would really work. Everything just "worked" that day. Like just so perfectly. I just smiled whenever something just turned out to be so "easy" on Henry's birthday. 

-The last one was truly insane. On the anniversary date of Henry's passing, our last day in the mountains, I wanted to go up to this lookout called Rough Ridge. We hiked straight up with Murphy, in the rain to get to this lookout and we got up there and it was completely foggy. It was funny in the moment but I was kinda bummed! Now, I know that mountain fog can come and go but what happened next was just jaw dropping. When it was completely foggy, we agreed to stay up there for a little bit to see if anything changed. I said "what do you think? Do you think Henry's here with us?" and as I said that, the fog shifted and 6 minutes later we had a beautiful mountain view. We both just looked at each other like "woah, that was insane". God + the angels work in mysterious ways. I'm glad I just happened to snag a before pictures, to always keep this amazing memory alive.

Woah, this got long. But honestly, what were you expecting? :) Thanks for being here.