Grief Sucks and It's All That's Left

Losing a baby sucks. It’s like to world isn’t flowing in the correct order.

But here we are, still moving on.

I think about Clementine every day, and two years later, it isn’t always sad. There are moments that I can’t keep together, and if I’m able to, I let those emotions flow. Something that surprised me with these emotions is that they’re sometimes beautiful ones.

The beauty in life takes my breath away more often. When an experience has a hint of elegance, I am overcome with gratitude to witness it. I didn’t expect grief to do this. And to be honest, it didn’t happen at first. I was numb or sad for a while.  But then something cracked open inside of me where love let in all of this light.

Gorgeous sunsets, someone singing, the wind the trees, or simply a clean and organized living room feels like Clementine. I had these feelings before losing her, but now they feel like her. Like these are gifts from her. These moments have more power and recognition because of her.

I’m not trying to be cheesy (although I love cheese, both kinds); it’s a shift that I can’t deny. Love has always been a central part of my life, and now I see my daughter in every bit of it.

Don’t get me wrong; I still can’t watch birthing scenes on TV or even hold a baby yet. That pain still exists and can take over in ways I despise. And yet, that pain is still a part of Clementine. So I still treasure it. 

I wish it weren’t my story, but it is. Losing a baby sucks. So I live and work through the pain it brings. My go-to response is to love it while I can because it’s all I have.