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I work for some amazing people. This journey would have been tough without their love and support. I was given the opportunity to go to Key Biscayne, FL for a continuing education course. Something I have wanted to attend for at least 2 years now. I was super grateful for the opportunity and was really looking forward to the trip, the time to myself, the knowledge I would gain, etc.

Two days before my trip I sat down to write a packing list of the things I would need to accommodate the things I would be doing. I looked around and thought of the things I was leaving behind. Logan. I already planned to take Logan Bear with me. That was a given. But to leave my home, the comfort of my home where Logan is in spirit, man that began to weigh on me. I felt my chest tightened and my heart pounding like a hammer. I was panicking. How was I going to leave Logan, and my house. How was I going to leave my husband to take care of Wyatt without me? I felt like there was no way I was going to be able to do this. But in my mind, I knew that I could. I could leave and go on this trip, it was going to be hard and painful, and I might be a wreck. But I could definitely do it.

As my sister drove me to the airport, I was chatty nervous. That type of chatter that just keeps going because you’re anxious and it’s your only outlet to relieve that tension. So you basically just keep sputtering like word vomit. She pulled up to the airport curb, and I started taking deep breaths. My heart literally felt like it was going to burst from the squeeze. I walked inside, went through TSA. All the while playing this scenario in my head, if they tried to take Logan Bear away from me. For some reason, I had this real fear that they would pull him out of my bag, look him over, touch him, ask questions, violate him. And everytime I saw my reaction play out in my head, I would see a complete utter meltdown. Like crazy psycho woman, plow the TSA agent, end up in airport jail meltdown. So I anxiously walked through, waiting. Nothing. They didn’t touch Logan Bear. I made it to my gate, and sat peacefully. I got on the plane, peacefully. 20 minutes into our flight, after taking loads of pictures out of my window, I kept thinking about the little bear stowed away in my duffle bag at my feet. I was sitting in a 3 seat setting. I was by the window. The guy on the aisle was asleep. But the man next to me kept moving about. As I kept thinking about my bear, I would peek over at the guy next to me. What would he think, if I pulled out my little bear? A grown woman, carrying an innocent child’s toy? He would not understand my meaning for my little bear.

As I sat there, I began to juggle fear in one hand and guilt in the other. Fear for what he or others might think of me for pulling out this little bear and taking pictures. Guilt because if Wyatt was there, I wouldn’t hesitate to take pictures with him. Guilt because who gives a shit if I want to take a picture with my little bear. Guilt because my little bear represents Logan in the only physical form I can, and I was embarrassed to take him out. In the end, my guilt won out. I told myself, I didn’t care what anyone thought. I’d never see these people again. They didn’t matter to me, their thoughts and opinions did not matter to me. So I leaned over and pulled Logan Bear out. I snuggled him to my chest. We took selfies snuggling and looking out the window. I felt so comforted and peaceful. And I held him for the remainder of the flight. Rubbing my face periodically on the top of his little head. As we landed, with reserve, I stowed him back in my duffle bag, safe until we could play again.

Once I got to the condo, he perched on my bed.

The remainder of my trip, quite honestly was a struggle. There was good and tough. Mother Nature had decided to pay me a visit the day before my trip, so my hormones were already out of control. Add on top of that my first trip away from the house since Logan’s passing. Then add on top of that the frustration of learning a new technique in my course. I’m a perfectionist to an extent. I pride myself in that I do my job not just well, but to the best of my ability. And I take joy when my boss is proud of the quality of my work. So this trip held so much expectation for me. I wanted to learn why we do splints and how to properly create them, but even further, I wanted to be the best. And I was struggling. It was a different technique than what my Dr had taught me. So many times tears sprang to my eyes, but I damned them from coming out. These girls hadn’t yet found out about Logan. Later in the trip they did. I didn’t want this to be a pity me party. So I cursed those tears back into their homes.

The second night we had an additional class; we went over personality types if you will. What their strengths were and their weaknesses. And I don’t know if it was the hormones, exhaustion or perhaps the beer, but I was really struggling keeping those tears in check. They would well up and go back down. Repeat and repeat. I don’t feel like any one thing triggered it. I think it’s been building up for the past few days, and I’m just waiting to uncork this volcano that’s trembling to erupt. One good cry to let out all this emotional tension; to set myself right again. I had every intention of going back to my room and watching a movie and going to sleep. But these girls I met on this trip, were so vibrant in their own ways. Each bringing such an interesting aspect to the group, from all over the country, literally. I chose to set this partially erupting volcano to the side, I crazy glued the cork back in and I went out with the girls. It. Was. Fun. I’m so thankful I went. I ventured out, had a great experience. I was childish and goofy. I spent $16 on a damn margarita. But I had fun.

The last day at the Institute was easy and fast. The day went by quickly and now I find myself sitting on the floor at my gate, waiting for my plane, verbally expressing this volcano. Hoping it will lessen the blow that I know will erupt as soon as I get home. I can already feel it rumbling now.

What I have taken away from this trip, is this:

1.) I am so grateful for my boss and his wife. They are more to us than just my boss. They have been an extended arm on my family tree. They treat me and my family very well. I am extremely blessed to have them in my life. I am grateful for the opportunities and understanding they provide. I am grateful for their genuine concern for my well being. For their support to continue my education and advance in my career.

2.) While I am extremely unhappy that Logan could not stay with me, I’m starting to understand that I have to move on with my life. There is nothing wrong with that. It doesn’t mean I love him any less. I can take him anywhere with me. I can’t even do that with Wyatt. I met a nice lady on this trip, that once she found out about Logan, confided in me that she had lost a child at 7 months gestation. She is older now, and I believe her children are grown. But I asked her whether she had another child after. And she said yes. She also told me it was the best decision because now she has this amazing child. And she would’ve missed that joy if she had chosen not to. She encouraged me to not shy away from the idea of another child, out of fear or uncertainty. But to mull it over. Sniff it, swirl it, sip, spit and repeat, like you do a fine wine.

3.) There are so many amazing things I can do in life on my own as an adult. I find myself relying on only enjoying things in life with the company of Josh or Wyatt or both of them. I find myself feeling guilty if I enjoy trips without them. But that’s not particularly fair to myself is it? This was an amazing opportunity to advance my skills in my career. To make myself more valuable as an employee and a person.

4.) This was a huge step in my mind as an adult. I’ve gone on trips before. But you must be a balla for your boss to send just YOU on a trip to freaking FL on HIS dime. Wow. That’s a HUGE compliment.

5.) Finally, I realize just how truly blessed I am. I may not have everything I want in life. But I definitely have everything I need and plenty more.

My husband and I have not been back to our church since before Logan’s passing. We did have a luncheon there after the funeral, but that’s it. The very thought for me is literally terrifying. When I sit and think about church, my heart starts to race, my skin gets clammy and I feel like I’m going to throw up. Before Logan, church was always a ‘reset’ button for me. I would start strong on Monday and by the time Sunday rolled around I was worn down and not at my best.  I would go to church and God would break me. The walls I put up during the week, would crumble down, my soul would peek out and God would speak to my heart. My life would come back into God’s perspective.

After we found out about Logan’s diagnosis, I still went avidly for several weeks. Praying for a miracle and having faith and trust that God would give it to me. Until I slowly quit going. The brokenness that I used to look forward to on Sunday’s began to weigh too heavy on me. Once I let that wall crumble, it wasn’t just Jesus I was letting in. I was letting in the reality and the emotion of what was going to happen to my baby. And I could no longer bear that weight. So I stopped going.

After Logan passed, that weight is still there. I know I will be broken when I go to that Sunday service. I know the walls will crumble. But I’m terrified to see what I find there. I haven’t been that broken since I lost Logan’s videos. The idea of sitting in the middle of our church, broken and weeping makes me feel isolated. I imagine myself, sitting there, feeling like the walls are closing in. Everyone looking at me with sympathy, as if they really knew my deepest sorrows. So I have continued to avoid my church. To be honest, I don’t think I have even driven by our church, whether I subconsciously have avoided that street, I don’t know, but it is curious. Wyatt quit going to Awana after Logan passed. Partly due to the grief in our household, and partly because I couldn’t bear to walk into that church.

Today, we had a meeting with one of the ladies that works at the church. Our church has a Bereavement Grant opportunity, and we had applied. Our interview was today. I do not like asking for help, in any shape or form. Those close to me know, that I will suffer through whatever if I know I can manage alone before I would ever ask for help. Our financial situation with medical bills has been extremely humbling. The bring me to my knees, weeping, overwhelming, in awe humbling. I already had so much anxiety about this meeting. I didn’t want to ask for help. It’s honestly embarrassing. I fell onto this verse the other day, but let’s be honest, did I really fall onto it, or perhaps was it DROPPED in my lap.

“And my God will supply every need of yours according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus.”- Philippians 4:19

I read this verse, and I tell myself, that what God has meant to be, will be. We can ask for help, and Jesus will provide if it’s what is according to His plan. So when others help us, I need to not be embarrassed, but honored that God has chosen them to be apart of our lives. I believe God has continued to bless us and supply our every need. Through this journey, aside from worrying about Logan’s illness, I worry heavily about financials. When Logan started living longer than anyone predicted, I had no clue how we were both going to be able to afford to stay home. The idea of leaving him and going back to work because we financially had to, and possibly miss the only precious time we had with Logan was devastating. I had tried to save as much as possible through the pregnancy. But with all the medical trips to Kansas City, we weren’t getting very far. My stress level was soaring past pulling my hair out. BUT. By the grace of God, he supplied our needs through His people. Amazing people, from across the world, that we’d never met, but had started to follow our journey, were blessing us with financial gifts. And we were able to stay home with Logan until he died. My husband and I were able to ‘run away’ as I like to call it, and grieve without the distractions of everyday life. We were able to be intimate in our grief together as a couple. To build a foundation before coming home to Wyatt.

Today, as the time ticked by, it seemed like a countdown to a big red panic button. I was getting more anxious by the minute. I pulled into the parking lot of my church and literally felt my face flush and my heart pick up its pace. I sat in my car, waiting for my husband to arrive. Literally on the verge of tears when he pulled up. As I got out of the car, the tears starting spilling over slowly. I looked at my husband and told him I didn’t want to go in. But of course we had to. I started walking towards the church, it’s size seemed overwhelmingly huge and bearing down on me like a ton of bricks. I stopped and turned toward my car, having only gone maybe 2-3 steps and began crying. Trying my hardest to take deep breaths, but it just wasn’t helping. I probably never would have made it in the doors had it not been for Josh guiding me. I couldn’t stop crying. I looked around this church, and all I could think was, Logan used to be here. In my belly. But he was here. He should be here. I kept trying to leave, I was uneasy and slightly suffocated. Once out the door, I couldn’t get away fast enough. I drove out of the parking lot and didn’t look back.

I found a quote, while reading one of my grief books, by Andree Seu. I resonated with it so much, I wrote it down, and read it from time to time. How perfectly it describes how I feel about my relationship with God. While we are stumbling, or rather, I am stumbling with our relationship, for what I have endured, I am a warrior of God. I have survived.

“To believe in Christ, in this moment, in this perplexity, in this frustration, in these setbacks, in this present agony, is victory of the highest order.”

I will enter the house of God again. And when I’m ready, I know He will be waiting.

The first mother’s day. I was told this one would be hard. Emotions would run high. To watch out for sinking rabbit holes hidden amongst the day.

Rewind to Saturday. I knew Mother’s Day was coming, and I really hadn’t felt any pressure to do something so spectacularly special. We never really do anything over the top for Mother’s Day. Usually we grill and spend the day as a family. Not unlike many of the other days we share on weekends. Moms vary on what they like for Mother’s Day, and there is no wrong answer. I prefer to just spend time with my husband and my sons.

The only thing I asked for this year was a Cherry Blossom. Either in the form of a tree or a bush. I didn’t care which. The Cherry Blossom has brought significance to my life in regards to Logan. The Cherry Blossom blooms for 2 weeks once a year. The reach the peak of their beautiful in those 2 weeks. Then their blossoms fall and it’s just a tree for the other 50 weeks of the year. Logan reached his peak of life in those 2 weeks he was home with us. He lived for 2 beautiful weeks full of emotional waves. It was the peak of emotions. They couldn’t go any higher nor lower. 2 weeks holds so much meaning to our family. This blossom resonated with my heart and the life of Logan.

So, Saturday morning there was some miscommunication between my husband and I. He called while I was in the middle of trying to put groceries up. We had planned this day out. But when he called, there was a hiccup with the Cherry Blossom. They didn’t have a bush, they had trees. As he rattled off the information about the 3 different trees, I felt my insides snap. I felt thrown into chaos, and I felt pressured to make a decision right then. The plans I’d made for this bush, were slipping. I just knew it wasn’t going to happen. I got angry, and hung up on him. I finished the busy work I had laid out in front of me and started cleaning the house by the time he came home. He tried to talk to me about what was going on, but my capabilities of understanding anything at that particular moment was gone. I was elevated too high. I felt as if my world was crashing down around me. Everything was going wrong.

I’m thankful to have an uncle, who despite his certain circumstances he’s going through, loves me and husband enough to help support us. Basically being kidnapped, it gave me an opportunity to step back from the situation, and focus on what the real issue at hand was. I was hurt. I didn’t realize how much value I had put into this bush. I was already on emotional alert this day, without me even knowing it. And when things didn’t go smoothly at the nursery, things began to crumble around me. Out of my hands. I felt out of control. Things have not been in my control for some time. I’m constantly standing on the inside trying to grab a hold of things. But its like everything slips through my fingers. I can’t pin anything down. It’s utter chaos.

As Josh and I discussed what had possessed me, I began to realize, he was struggling too. This was just as an important day for him as it was for me. The significance of this bush brought about such excitement for him. His disappointment by the nursery setback only plummeted even further by my reaction to this incident. Funny, how such a little plant can cause so much trouble. But it isn’t just a little plant is it?

Fast forward to today: Sunday. We went together, as a family to the nursery. We listened to the gentleman, who seemed a little gruff to me at first. He wasn’t understanding what I wanted. Instead he kept talking about plants and I was no longer listening. He kept walking further and further away from the plants I wanted. I finally told him, why we wanted a Cherry Blossom. That it didn’t have to be the Cherry Blossom itself, but that it was the bloom phase that was important to us. We finally decided on a Lilac Bush. It blooms once a year and remains green the rest of the time. It’s mature size would fit perfectly where we wanted it. So we let Wyatt choose which Lilac Bush to take home.

We each took turns digging the hole underneath Wyatt’s window. We chose this spot because Logan’s window is on the front porch. But their rooms are right next to each other. We sprinkled some of Logan’s ashes along the roots. And as my husband was pushing soil over the roots, I noticed him begin to silently weep. Such a simple plant, to bring such significance. A symbol, of burying my child, to watch him grow each and everyday. Buried and renewed. Dead and healed. Earth and Heaven.

We will need to water and prune this Lilac Bush. It will need our love. This Lilac Bush represents our love.

I am thankful for the two children God blessed me with. Even though Logan is not here, he is still my blessing. He taught me what true unconditional love is. He loved me. His love was not influenced by the worldly desires. His love was pure untainted love. Wyatt has such a beautiful heart. He adores me. He shows sincere concern for my well-being. He’s always lifting me up as his mother; “You’re the best mom ever” and “I love you more” battles. He is a reflection of the love I shower on him. I am proud to be their mother. They both show such bravery in the face of a cold selfish world. My desire is that both their lives continue to be a light in this cloudy world.

My son cries every night for his baby brother. Not a whisper of tears, but a weeping. If you’ve never seen a child weep, you won’t understand the multitude of emotions that surge through your body.

At times I feel at a loss on how to help him with his grief. He’s 8, and I can barely process his brain on a normal day. How do I even begin to understand what his young mind is thinking? Other times I feel agitated by his sobs. (It’s embarrassing to admit that) I’m in a place now, where I don’t want to deal with the tears. Not just his, but Josh’s too. Maybe because I don’t cry very much anymore. It takes just the right ingredient at the right moment to flip that switch. I’m usually on autopilot.

I often feel their tears, interfere with my everyday life. It’s hard to explain, I love them and I hurt for their pain. It’s like an old record, that keeps skipping and playing the same tune over and over until your hitting your head against the wall. This cycle of grief keeps spinning and spinning on the same tune. I’m tired of listening to this song. I’m ready for a new one.

I know Wyatt is confused and sad. He loves Logan so much. It’s not fair that he doesn’t get to grow up and teach Logan about life. I’m hiding in my bathroom, because I’m honestly scared to walk out. I can hear him crying in bed with his dad. I feel complacent. I want to console him, but at the same time I don’t. Perhaps I’m avoiding it. Grief. My grief. Their grief. I think of Logan often. But I don’t get sad, unless it’s a particular song from his funeral. I’m simply complacent. It’s like I know what happened, but I don’t feel. Like a veil, it filters, I know what’s happened by the emotions don’t penetrate the veil.

It’s odd that he cries at night. He’s okay during the day, normal even. Logan is always apart of everyday conversation in our house. Then again, perhaps it’s not odd. Bedtime is when you wind down from your day. Your brain takes the time to intricately process the happenings of your day. Usually to over analyze if your me lol

Sometimes I wish we could fast forward through the next couple of years. Be at a point in life where we cry very little. The pain not so strong. To get past this awkward phase in our lives. It truly is an awkward phase. Nothing truly feels like normalcy. It’s all a new reality, a new wave of life.

**I wrote the above blog a few days ago**

Have you ever heard the phrase, “just going through the motions”?

On the nights I happen to visit the gym, I listen to my playlist named ‘Logan’ on my way home. It’s filled with songs that are sad, slow and melodic. Most of them are from his funeral. As I drive in the dark, windows down and his music blaring as loud as a raging storm, I find myself focusing on the details of Logan’s life. Zooming in and mentally logging the features of his face. A movie reel with a bad wifi connection; his final moments of life- buffering….. the bath I gave him after he died- buffering…. the weight of his body in my arms at his funeral-buffering… conversations while I was pregnant, wondering how we were going to be able to hold our baby.

I love these moments. They are bitter, for they remind me of my loss and pain. But they are so sweet because I get to sit peacefully and remember him and how much I love him. It allows me uninterrupted time to focus on my mentality and emotional state. Most days I think, ‘did this really happen to me?’ It seems like a dream. Life has moved forward, it keeps moving forward. All around me life keeps going. It never stopped. I find it hard to believe that I actually lost a child, when life doesn’t show me that I have.

When I was home after Logan passed, I had time to focus on my loss. It felt so real. But the outside world had not penetrated my inner circle. I had made a safe haven in my home. Nothing could hurt me there. Once I stepped out, who knew what was waiting to swallow me up.

Now I find myself, going through the emotions. I had thought, that I was really enjoying life. But tonight, I’m left wondering. I think about the things I did and the friends I saw before Logan died. I was very active in life. And now, I have to force myself to fall into those same shoes. It’s like I woke up one day, and my favorite pair of pairs were holy and I had a new pair awaiting me. Try as I may, I can’t seem to find my rhythm back into my life. Rather, I find myself just going through the motions of this former life of mine. I go to work, because it’s what I know. But even there, I find my mind roaming. My brain literally goes blank in the middle of a task. I’ve tried for 3 weeks to get back into a workout routine, to just find that my strength I had is gone. My understanding for the condition of my body is gone. I know I just had a baby and major surgery. But it falls short on my understanding. I go to the gym, I might giggle here or there through a workout routine, but I’m left wanting. I’m left empty. I’m left feeling unaccomplished.

On my days off from work, all I want to do is hide. Someone once described grief as ‘coming in waves.’ It’s the best description I’ve heard that I can relate to. Some days I feel the strength of David. Then the water pulls back, and wave after wave comes crashing into shore. Smacking me, pushing me down, swallowing me, suffocating me. What is life supposed to look like? I feel empty, all the time.

I try to remember what it was like to love Wyatt like I did before Logan was born. I can see it, but I can’t feel like. I love him, there is no doubt about that. But I can’t feel it. Its like looking at a picture of someone, but not being able to feel them. I have to make myself spend time with him. It doesn’t come naturally anymore. I remember at some point in my Logan journey, in my devastation, I looked at Wyatt and thought, ‘why do you get to live, but Logan didn’t?’ Gosh, just even writing that makes me feel so horrible as his mother. Neither child is more special than the other. I love them both. Perhaps grief is to blame.

Will I ever be okay? Or will I spend the rest of my life ‘going through the motions’? Doing what I know is right, but not having the capacity to put my heart into it.

how are you? I’ve always felt this question is quizzical. Recently, I honestly hate this question. Maybe hate is a strong word. I cringe when asked this question. Yet, it’s such a common “go to” question in life. It flows out the mouth before you even have time to think about what you are even asking. It’s a question that doesn’t really require an honest answer. It’s more of a means to fill a quiet void and make small talk.

But let’s get real, “how are you” is a very loaded question. Most of the time, the answer, “I’m okay” suffices. But I’m anything other than okay. My baby died. I don’t think you are ever really “okay” after that. You learn to live with it. Or perhaps, “I’m okay” does cover it. You are always in a constant state  of “okay.” Somedays you exceed “okay”. Other days you fall short. But your new baseline is simply, okay. In my line of work, the first question I ask my patient when I bring them back is “how are you today?” And usually I’m hit back with the same question. Most often I say “I’m okay” with enough emphasis to be really convincing. Other times I find myself struggling to get those 2 simple words out.

This past weekend, I lost all content I had on my phone of Logan. To backstory- I had an iPhone 6 in February that I backed up on my MacBook. I bought an iPhone 7 specifically for the purpose of taking lots of photos and videos of Logan. Friday, when I plugged my iPhone 7 into my MacBook, iTunes decided to revert my iPhone 7 to my old iPhone 6, essentially wiping all my photos and videos of Logan gone. I had not backed anything up. I took me a few minutes to fully comprehend what had just happened. My tears started slowly, and quickly became weeping sobs. I begged my computer for 30 minutes, which seemed like eternity. In between sobs I pleaded for my computer to give them all back. I repeated this plea over and over. As if my computer had any intellect into what it had just done to me.

To date this is the deepest, darkest rabbit hole I have been in. It literally lasted 3 days. I’m not proud of all the mentalities I went through in these days. But it is a brutal reality into this life I now live. I wept like I just lost my son. And to me, I had. I lost him all over again. Except the intensity of this was so much deeper than the first time. When Logan died, I had “live” photos and videos to look at whenever I wanted. It gave me vivid reminders of the little personality we got to see. His different stages of breathing through his life. Mommy reading to him. Big brother reading to him. Daddy singing to him. His first bath. His final bath. His hiccups. His smirks. His yawns. His poop faces. His eyes opening. I recorded as much as I could. Perspective : 34 video’s and over 1500 photos. Even though I knew he was gone, I could still watch him. It gave me a sense of peace. It was a main factor in my coping. When I lost everything, I felt as if I had nothing. I had nothing left of my son. It was all taken from me. It’s hard to explain, but there was this sense of finality to his death. In a way, the videos made me feel like he was living with us, alongside us. I would come into his room, and talk to him. Sometimes even tucking him under the blanket in his crib to keep him warm and comfortable. So he wouldn’t feel alone.

I could no longer look at his movements on my phone. I felt as if I could no longer connect to my child. With Wyatt, he is here everyday, I get to watch him. His photos, while I would prefer to not lose them, would not be as devastating. My photos and video’s are all I have of Logan. I continued to travel down this path in my rabbit hole, at an alarming speed. I had no interests in climbing back out. I raced towards the looming black hole at the bottom. Each level I passed in my rabbit down brought about a new insecurity. My role as a mom, a wife, a sister, a person; all under attack. Josh, bless his heart, kept trying to put a rope down my rabbit hole, but I wouldn’t grasp it. I kept saying over and over, “It doesn’t matter, it just doesn’t matter.” Everything I’ve done in life, no longer mattered. I was a good person, lived my life right, made mistakes as anyone does. But yet got dealt a shit hand. I worked so hard to be a good mom and focus on Wyatt and his needs and teach him life, and he didn’t want to spend time with me. He didn’t care. I was a good daughter-in-law just to have that stomped on. I was a good wife, and he didn’t care. I praised the Lord, raised my son in the church, and tried to focus on the holy positivity that came out of Logan’s passing. Just to have my main coping mechanism snatched from me. What was the point? I went over and over that question, many times in those 3 days. Why was I trying so hard to just get shit on? I saw no purpose for continuing this life. I wanted to just die, and be with my Logan. To end this suffering brought on by this world. Something inside me snapped, broke.

10% of my brain told me I should be concerned about how my behavior was affecting Josh and Wyatt. When Josh would look at me, his concern was written all over his face. He couldn’t hide how terrified he was of my behavior. No clue how to help me. He’d never seen me like that before. Completely hopeless. I reached the bottom of the rabbit hole, but when I looked up, there was no light, only blackness. I was surrounded by a cold empty pit. I curled up on the couch in the fetal position and cried silent tears for a long time, mentally going through a list of ways to end my life, wondering which one would hurt the least. I got up long enough on Sunday to get Wyatt an Easter gift, but I never crawled out of my hole. Once back home, I grabbed some beers. Having not had a drink in 9 months and nothing to eat all day, tipsy quickly became drunkenness. My give a damn was already gone, but the pain didn’t hurt so bad. I felt numb. I still didn’t care, still didn’t see a point in life.

We had plans with my sister for Easter that evening, and for some reason I felt like I couldn’t ditch. I had a gin and tonic once we got there and a margarita later. I had a heart to heart with my sister, where I confided in her what I had been processing in my head all day. Instead of lecturing me, she gave me soft words of encouragement. Reminding me of all the good in life I’ve done, and how those who don’t appreciate it, is not a reflection on me, but of them. She pointed out the love my husband has for me. The fact that Wyatt is growing up and getting to an age where I’m not as important. She encouraged but didn’t push me, to go to my therapy appointment the next day. I don’t know exactly what it was about this conversation, it wasn’t anything I didn’t already know, I just hadn’t cared. But I started crawling out of my rabbit hole. Coming out almost as fast as I went in. Finally reaching the top, I felt like I could breathe for the first time in days. I looked at my son with enjoyment. I took pictures of him and his cousin fetching easter eggs. I laughed, really laughed. As the night went on, and I got food in my stomach, I really saw enjoyment in life again. I could feel myself coming back to life.

Later that night, Josh and I talked about what I had gone through the previous days. I could admit that it was bad. I was in a very bad place. I never stopped loving him. I never stopped loving Wyatt. I just didn’t want to continue on a path that didn’t seem to offer me anything. Now out of my rabbit hole, and climbing up the hill, I can look down and see the bottom of that pit. Down there is irrational fear and doubt. Each layer strips your mind of your rational thinking, until all you have left is darkness. All my insecurities in life were blown out of proportion. As much as I love and miss Logan, losing him is not the end of my life. it is okay to say that. It is okay for my life to move forward. It is okay for me to be happy.

I often think that one day, I won’t have this hole in my chest. I won’t get sick to my stomach. I won’t have panic attacks. I won’t always feel empty. I won’t always feel like something vital is missing. But truth be told, I don’t think any of those things will ever stop. My hope is that each of these will decrease over time. And that each episode will get shorter and interpoximally longer. I don’t tell you these things for your pity. Please do not pity me. Instead, understand me. Understand my pain, empathize with my pain. I want to educate you on the reality of this magnitude of grief. My biggest pet peeve is when someone tells me “I know what you are going through, I lost my dog, my dad, my husband, my (insert whatever here).” While I know your grief and pain are difficult, please do not compare. Your loss is not my loss. Losing a 14 day old baby is a completely different role than losing your husband. My job as a parent is to raise and keep my child safe. I am his caregiver, his safety net, his anchor. My spouse is my lover, my partner, my best friend. The roles are completely different. While it would hurt to lose a loved one, you move on with your life, remarry even. I cannot “re-child.” I will never have another Logan.