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It’s hard to explain but after we lost Jenna the world became black and white.
There was beautiful, and there was ugly.
There were people that cared, and people that didn’t.
There were places I could handle, and places to avoid.
Things that mattered, and the dreams I no longer felt passionate about.
There were good days and there were days I wish I would never have climbed out of bed.
The grey area somehow disappeared, and after the fog of what really just happened cleared, a whole new perspective on life, faith and everything in between settled in.
On the good days, the sunshine felt like candy on my skin. I wanted to soak up every bit.
The gerber daisies and roses were not just decorations for a yard, they were a gift from Heaven. And they felt like they were sent, just to cheer me up.
The wildflowers were like God handing me a bouquet in the most unlikely of places. Bluebonnets, Indian Paintbrushes, and the pretty yellow ones that tend to take over Texas fields. I couldn’t believe I never stopped to notice them before.
When the butterflies would dance around the yard, it wasn’t just pretty… it was a miracle. They would often remind me of my tiny miracle, especially the little yellow ones.
On the bad days, a hard rain felt good. It reflected the drowning sorrow of my heart.
Writing consoled my soul. Somehow pouring it all out there helped me. And music made me feel closer to our sweet girl.
There were places I clearly could not handle to be anymore, and sadly, friends that I no longer felt a connection with. The world was a different place, but deep inside I knew I was the only one that changed. The world had always been this way.
Letting go of some of the dreams I felt so passionately about before losing Jenna almost felt natural. They weren’t in my heart anymore. I had new dreams, induced by a crude awakening to this world of baby loss.
It’s been a little over three years, and quite frankly I still don’t recognize this new me. I’ve accepted the world for what I see it to be, but there are parts of this new person that I sometimes feel disconnected with. It’s more obvious when I get around people I used to be close with, or visit places that stir up old memories.
Death has changed me, and that’s okay. But it won’t define me.
I will look to the sky, and just be glad in this moment that I can find beauty. Sadly it has taken so much for me to get here, and appreciate these little wonders. But I am here, nonetheless.
Finding beauty.
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About Franchesca
Thank you. This is so beautiful. For the first time, someone else has put into words how I feel disconnected from some of my previous passions, and that helps relieve some of my guilt.
Thank you Amy, I hope you can connect with your old passions, and find new ones. Sending big hugs to you!!
Thank you for writting what all BLM mothers have in there heart. I honestly never thought I would smile again after losing Thea. I kept asking myself if I would ever be the same again.
I am not who I was. I’m definately richer. Not material rich…. but richer in my heart and mind. I now smile…. I smile with my heart…. and I think to myself…. I don’t want my old self back….. that would mean that Thea would never had been here.
Thank you again for everything you do.
Maria
xxxxx
Oh that is exactly how I feel too! I would never want to be the old person, she made me a person who is able to love deeper, and live life fuller. Such a gift they give us
xoxo
this is such an eloquent post. you decribe the balance of grief and joy so perfectly…thank you franchesca.
thank you Jen. xxxx
Thank you for posting this as ihelped put my jubbled thoughts into a little clarity…starting at the paragragh begining with: There were places…..
(((hugs)))
Totally identify with so much of this, Fran. Thanks for writing this. Trying to see the beauty with you, even though sometimes it’s so. freaking. hard.
It definitely is Beth, even three years down the road. Be gentle on yourself. Big hugs to you friend!
xoxo
Beautiful Fran, every word of it!
Thank you Erin!
Very relateable and beautifully written. May we all find joy in the little moments in between the sorrow. xo
Beautiful.
Absolutely new people…but I think that’s a reflection of the new hearts God gave us…the ones that allow us to still breathe even after losing our babies and to rejoice when our hearts feel like there’s no way we could ever want to again.
xoxoxxo
so so true. New hearts for sure. Big hugs to you friend.
Just gorgeous! And I agree I wouldn’t want to be the same person. To me, the new me is evidence that my babies made a difference!
Exactly
I see it the same way. I wouldn’t want to be the old me. Our babies make such a difference in this world.
xxxx
I had not thought of it like this, but yes, that is what happens. Maybe you realise the ‘grey’ stuff does’nt matter, and that a reaction one way or another is what is needed. Maybe you realise that there is no room in this world of baby loss for apathy.
Valerie
xxx
Your words are beautiful, Fran. Raw, fresh, real. I never expect anything less when I read your posts. Thank you for sharing. Sending sweet Jenna Belle hugs and kisses…and mama too!
xoxo
Big hugs to you Christy. So so thankful for you. XOXO
Beautifully written. I wish none of us lived in a world without our child/children but since we are it helps to find beauty were we can. Thank you so much for sharing Jenna with us. Sending peace and hugs. Take care.
I love your way with words Franchesca. I don’t have that gift, but you put my feelings into words perfectly. Thank you.