Let me tell you a secret.
Sometimes I want to forget that I have a daughter that died.
Not because I don’t love her or want her or miss her terribly (I do). But because this road can be flat-out exhausting.
Sometimes I want to pretend that our rainbow son is our first child, so I don’t have to fumble for an answer that doesn’t hurt when people ask if he has any siblings.
I want to pretend that once you get pregnant, you always go home with a baby. I’d like to pretend that getting pregnant is easy. I’d like to pretend that pregnancy isn’t a terrifying ride with no guarantees. I’d like to regain that innocence.
I want to pretend that I don’t know how silently and swiftly death can enter in.
I want to pretend that I don’t know the fear that seems to come along with loss. I want to forget how easily my son could die, or my husband, or my other loved ones. I want to pretend that love isn’t that big of a risk.
Sometimes I feel exhausted from all this knowing, and I just want to forget for a little while, to rest before coming back to that empty place in my heart, renewed.
Do you ever feel that way, too?
It’s okay. It’s okay to be tired, to want a break. Grief can be a battle, long and unforgiving. Let’s be gentle with ourselves, together.