Rules for Surviving Grief pt 2 and how to help a loved one who is grieving

Awhile back, I started a set of rules about how to survive grief. This is the second part.

Set goals for yourself.
I'm not talking long term goals. I'm talking day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute type goals. Whatever it is you are able to accomplish.
It also helps to make a list- that way you get the feeling of accomplishment when you get to cross something off the list.
Your list will differ depending on who you are, who you've lost, what stage of grief you are in.
You might have one thing on your list, you might have several.
Your only goal for the day might be to get out of bed or take a shower.
And that is ok.
As things get better, and your grief is more under control, add to your list. But just add what your can handle. Don't set goals that are too lofty and add stress to yourself.





Now I'd like to address those who have a loved one who has lost someone. This is a tough position to be in, because you want to make it better but you don't know how. And sometimes, trying to make it better with words inadvertently hurts them more. So I'm going to sort of make a list of do's and don'ts.

A lot of times, people will say "Let me know if there's anything I can do." Which is very nice and you obviously mean well. However, do not say this if you do not mean it.
I read a story of a couple who had lost a child and they had two other children. One of their friends said to call if they needed anything and the couple put aside their pride and asked the friends to watch their children so they could go on a date. (The loss of a child is very hard on a couple and they needed to work to make sure they stayed together as a team and not push each other away.) In and of itself, asking for help is very humbling and a bit embarrassing. The friends they called turned them down because they had plans.
This is why I say do not say it unless you truly mean it and are prepared to drop anything you have going on if they do call you needing help.
A better alternative, is to simply do things. Don't wait for the person to ask. Just offer.
If a couple (or an individual) is grieving and they have children, offer to take the kids for the night. That gives them the chance to go out, go on a date, or simply stay in and feel whatever they need to without worrying about staying strong in front of anyone.
If you are at the store, pick up something for them that they probably need or would like.
Drop off a meal.
Do their laundry.
Mow their lawn.
Do whatever you can to help. Don't ask them if they want you to do it, because most people are going to tell you not to bother yourself, but if they need something done and you are capable of doing it for them, just do it.
When she heard what had happened with Nico, my very good friend Angel jumped into action. She got flowers and had a necklace made and brought them to the hospital without expecting anything. I wasn't ready to see anyone and she understood that. She dropped them off with my mom. When I went home, she told me she was making soup and asked what kind I wanted. Didn't ask if I wanted soup, just told me she was going to make me some. This was something that I was very grateful for.

Be there for people however you can. My other very good friend Liz hopped on a plane from Florida and came up. She didn't expect anything from me, she did not expect to be entertained. She picked up food she knew I  liked and brought it and then just sat with me. She watched whatever I wanted to watch without objection. She told me that if I needed to sleep to go ahead. She was simply there. And that was huge.

A lot of times, people will send a plant. Which is super thoughtful, but keep in mind the person you are sending it to. Are they good at gardening? Have they ever kept a plant alive for a long time? If the answer is no, consider something else instead. Cookies, dinner, a movie, whatever would be appropriate to them. I only say this because a lot of times when a person is grieving, they are not going to remember to care for a plant and then they will have the sadness and guilt that comes with realizing that they ruined your gift.
If they are a person who enjoys caring for plants and is good at it, and you know they will appreciate it, then by all means flower away. Just consider the individual if you are deciding on a gift for them.

I get the feeling of need to say something, but a lot of times, the common responses are not helpful and can even cause more pain.
Don't say "It was their time." This is a line that was created to fill the awkward void between yourself and your grieving loved one. It doesn't mean anything and it doesn't bring any comfort.
If they've lost a child, do NOT say "You can try again." That line acts as though their child did not matter and is replaceable.
Don't say "God needed them in Heaven." That makes God seem selfish. I had a couple of people say this to me and honestly it just made me angry because it implied that the nine months I spent caring for my son, growing him, being all kinds of uncomfortable, and the weekend I spent in labor with him, meant nothing. That I didn't need him. Because I did. I needed him more than God could have.
DO say "I am so sorry." If you can't think of what to say, this is always appropriate.
DO offer to listen if they want to talk.
Don't avoid the name of their loved one. Not saying their name will not diminish their pain.
Feel free to tell them that you can't imagine what they are going through if you haven't been in their situation.
If you've lost a loved one similarly however, do not tell them that you know "exactly" how they feel because you don't. You understand that it is painful, but your experiences were different from theirs because you are different people. 
Don't tell them that God won't give them more than they can handle. That a) tells them that God caused their pain, which is not cool and b) basically means "suck it up, you're tough enough to deal with this."
For the love of all that is good, do NOT remind them of what they've lost by pointing out what you still have. This seems like the most obvious thing in the world, but apparently it needs to be said.
I actually had someone say to me, "As a mother, I can't imagine going through that." This was the most painful thing anyone said to me. I'm sure she didn't mean it to come across the way it did, (I certainly hope no one would purposely be that cruel) but basically what she was saying was (as I interpreted it) "Thank God my children are fine. I'm still a mother but you aren't." I'm a mother too and I did have to go through this.

Above all, think through how what you do or say will be interpreted, and keep in mind that a person in grief is not thinking with their normal, clear, levelheadedness, so don't be offended if they act differently than you think they should. Remember that everyone grieves differently and do not judge them for how they grieve.

One year of brokenness

One year ago, my world changed forever. I was prepared for life altering changes, but not this change. This was not the change that was supposed to happen.
A doctor told me that my baby was dead instead of that he was ready to be born.
I spent days in the hospital in a horrible drug and pain filled haze.The doctors pumped me full of antibiotics because carrying a corpse inside you causes serious infection. They pumped me full of painkillers but it did nothing to help the worst pain. No amount of medication can even dull the pain of a broken heart.
As I spent days in labor, there was a tiny part of me that still knew what hope was, that hoped they were all wrong, that he would come out and be fine.
The epidural diminished the pain of labor, but not delivery. I still felt everything as I pushed my precious boy out. I felt everything as the doctor spent half an hour with her arm inside me trying to detach his placenta so I didn't get an even worse infection. But what I felt most was a horrible, consuming love.
I never knew I could love someone as much as I loved and still love him. 
After he was born I started turning down pain killers and sleep aids that previously had been put in my IV. I needed every second possible to hold him, to be aware so I could memorize his face, his hands, his smell. When I close my eyes, I see his face.When I look at my husband, I see my son. I remember how it felt to hold him and snuggle him in bed, how his fingers fit so perfectly wrapped around mine. I remember what his skin felt like under my lips when I kissed him goodbye. And I remember how much more it hurt when they took him away. I didn't think it was possible to hurt even more. But I did. I remember all of these things because it's all I have of him. I only have memories, and they are so few.


So today on your birthday, instead of baking you cake to make a mess of, and watching you blow out your first candles, instead of watching you open your first presents and watching you smile, instead of taking pictures of you, I am at home without celebration, without your smiles, without you.
It's just me and my memories. And they are so few.

I loved you then. I love you now. I'll love you always.
My precious baby boy.

Note to self: I miss you terribly.

I miss the person I used to be before all this. I was happy and goofy and creative. I was a strong believer who didn't waver or question her beliefs. I don't recognize myself anymore. I've evolved into someone, something different. I don't know how to bring her back, but I know I liked her better and I'm sure everyone else did too.

"Everything happens for a reason"
"God never gives us more than we can bear"
"The Lord works in mysterious ways"
"What goes around comes around"
People say this kind of b.s. because they don't know what else to say. There was no reason, I'm not a freaking She-Hulk, mysterious/murderous same thing?, and if this is true then I must have done some truly horrible things to deserve this.
Maybe people think it's too harsh of me to say so, but I do consider God at the very least an accomplice to the death of my son. I prayed every day. EVERY DAY. That he would keep him safe and healthy. That he wouldn't take this child of mine away. I believed that even if there was something wrong that God could/would step in and heal him. He chose not to. He knew I would shut him out if he made that choice because I told him from the beginning. Was he not listening? Did he not care?
I feel like a fraud. I teach kids about God's great love and how they need to hand their problems over to him and he'll take care of them. I encourage them to pray. This week my lesson is forgiveness and two weeks ago was trust. Well what if the one that you need to forgive and the one you no longer can trust is God? What then? Who helps you then? Where do you turn to when you're so completely lost and feel utterly beyrayed? I need answers. And I need to know if I'm actually qualified to do this job because I am a huge hypocrite. I encourage them to believe and trust and pray and I haven't talked to God in 9 months except occasionally to tell him what a jerk I think he is. I want them to believe and trust and pray but I can't do it myself. I can't walk the talk. Not yet. The more I question what I know, the more confused I become. If God loved us and wanted the best for us then why is Satan ruling the Earth instead of rotting in Hell as we all know he will one day be? Why is he roaming free and unpunished? If God so loved the world then why did he pick a few select favorites and wipe out the ENTIRE rest of the world. Or wipe out entire cities and turn someone into SALT because she disobeyed? That's love?? God tested Abraham's devotion by telling him to kill his child...love?
There is a hole in my heart. I used to cram God into all the cracks and holes that other hurts gave me, but now my heart flimsy and fragile and some days I think a slight breeze could completely destroy it.
I hate this. I hate feeling this way and I hate questioning everything. I hate feeling like I'm doing something wrong by doing my  job.  I never want to turn someone away or hurt their beliefs but when I don't feel the way I'm encouraging them to, doesn't that make me a liar?
Please help.

I was day dreaming and thinking of you today. I envisioned us playing outside, teaching you to swim. Bundling you up in your little bear suit and watching you squeal in the snow. Laughing as I watched you eat-a bite for you, a bite for the dogs, giggling all the while. Thinking of all the moments I would miss while I was at work and your grandmas babysat you.
And then an iron band grabbed my soul and nearly choked the life out of me, pulling me back to reality. The nightmare is what is real, the daysreams a horrible torture.  I had to remind myself that you are gone. That I will never get to do all those things I had planned. You were real, you were tangible,  you were my sweet baby boy  and yet you slipped through my fingers like sand. Here one moment, I could feel you...and then so suddenly just gone. How did this happen?
Will this anguish never end?

"...their mothers beg the lord. 'If you're listening I'm missing him, so somehow bring him home... how did it come to this?"

We are preparing to move into a new house which has created a lot of joy, anticipation and excitement, but also a great deal of stress. I'm working on packing up my room right now and I just feel overwhelmed by many things. I was pulling out all the books from my closet because I thought that would be an easy place to start. However, in the bottom of the closet are several things of Nico's that never got packed away and I hadn't had the heart to do it, so they lay poorly hidden under winter coats. I will need to pack those up and put them with the rest of his things. I know Ryan and his mom hid all of Nico's things downstairs in the boiler room so that I didn't have to pack them away. I was down there looking for something one day and saw a bunch of his things hastily shoved in boxes and under whatever could be found to disguise them. Curiosity got the best of me and I began looking through them. It was hard enough seeing his toys and blankets and things, but there was one bag that broke me. There was a bag from Ryan's mom filled with wrapped Christmas presents for him. For some reason, that affected me too much and I started sobbing. My baby, my Christmas present, would never get to see his.
And now as I'm packing I'm thinking about him. Right now he and several mementos from the hospital are in our bedroom on Ryan's dresser. The bedroom at our new house isn't big enough for both Ryan's and my dresser and mine will go in there because our tv is on it. So where will we put Nico? I need to keep him close by where I can see and talk to him, but I don't know where to put him. I could put him in the living room maybe. Or my craft room. I won't put him in the spare room though because that would seem like we were shoving him aside. This is hard to talk, write, or think about. I know that my son's soul is safe in heaven, but all that I have left of him is what is on that dresser and it is beyond precious to me and it needs to be safe and honored. I don't know what to do.
I have so many questions that I will never get answers to.
What color are you eyes? Are they blue like mine or green like Daddy's?
Would you always have my little button nose or would you have grown to be a clone of Daddy?
Would your hair stay blonde or grow dark like ours did? Is it curly?
Are you left handed or right handed?
What would you have liked doing? Would you like reading like me? Video games like him?
Are you musical like we are?
What is Heaven like? What do you and your sibling(s) do?
Most importantly, do you know how much I love you? That not a day goes by that I don't think about you and the person you would have been?
I love you and I miss you so much. And I'm sorry to my other baby that I don't say as much to you. I really love you and miss you too. I wonder all of these things about you as well. Only I don't have even the slightest clue what you looked like. And I knew you for such a short time that I barely knew you. Just know that I love you very much. Some day I will hold both of you. Some day I'll finally know you better. Someday. We will be together. Take care of each other.

My sweet baby Nico,
Today was supposed to be a day of rejoicing and celebration. Instead it was a double hit of loss and sorrow. We should be spending Mother's Day together...I should be holding you and celebrating that today is also your six month birthday. Not only were you taken from me too soon, but your older sibling as well.  Mother's Day is a reminder to me that the world is a cruel and unfair place. I can however take comfort in knowing that nothing and no one in this cruel place can ever hurt you, and you aren't lonely because you have each other.
You taught me and surprised me with how deeply I could love. My love for you will never change, will never weaken. I will love and mourn you for the rest of my life.
I know that even in my belly you had your own personality that was unique to you. You liked UFC nights- you would get really active and kick and punch me as if practicing along with the television. You did not like cold water- if I got in the pool and the water was below 70 degrees you would tense up and get angry. You enjoyed biscuits and gravy and often made special requests for them. You hated chicken and peanut butter, always sending it back if I tried to feed them to you. You liked keeping Mommy awake at night because you were always wide awake at 8:00 and wanted company for your dance parties. You also liked making me sprint to the bathroom in the middle of the night- reminding me who was in charge with karate chops to the bladder. You were very partial to one side of my body and left me looking very lopsided and strange. You liked to nestle up under my ribs and keep my heart and lungs company. It is in my heart that you will ways be. You also liked when Daddy would put his hand on you, the warmth seemed to relax you.
My sweet eldest child whom I need to find a name for: you also had likes and dislikes, even in the very short time I knew you. You only liked four foods: Starburst FaveReds, rice cakes, cottage cheese and lemon cook and serve pudding.  You especially disliked spicy food and would immediately reject it. You taught me what it was to hope and overcome the odds that PCOS had threatened.
I love you both so much and as your mommy I wanted to take this day to remember the good things as well as grieve you.

 My lopsided belly full of you, my Nico.

A tribute to you, my love:

 Your footprint from the hospital and your initials.

And for my other love, though it pertains to you both:

"He shall live forever and see no corruption or decay. " Just below my heart

Mother's Day this year is Nico's six month birthday......such disgusting irony.

You're probably going to be offended

At what point did Christianity switch from Fire and Brimstone with a vengeful God, to "God is love, God is good"? If it's the same God, how can there be so vastly different teachings of him?
Lately I wonder which one is correct...both? Neither? I don't know.

Every few seconds, an innocent child dies of starvation or disease.
Every year over 6 million children are abused in the US alone.
Every day 4-7 children in the US die of abuse or neglect.

What kind of loving God would allow this?
This is the same God that made it LITERALLY RAIN FOOD in the old testament, just to prove a point, so that people would stop complaining and believe in him.

Whenever I pose the question of why he allows such terrible things, I get the response of "free will." God gave humans free will so that they would choose to love him rather than be forced to love him...is that really more important than sparing all these children? Children are killed, molested, starved...so that people can have free will? Someone else said that God allows third world countries to be as they are because it is the duty of others help them. A loving God would really allow people to die horrible deaths because other people chose not to, or were unable to help them? Are you kidding me??
At some point the whole "free will" argument becomes bull shit. I'm sorry if that offends you, but really... no loving creator could possibly have that thought process. If he is all knowing and all powerful, he could change things...he could make it better...he could save all those children. And he chooses NOT to.

I don't talk to God anymore. I used to talk to him all day long. But I can't share myself, I can't talk to or praise someone that I don't trust. And it's not like he's surprised by this...I flat out told him, many times that if Nico died, I wasn't going to talk to him anymore. Letting my babies die was his choice. Shutting him out is mine. That's how I'm going to use my "free will."

I envy the people who have lost a baby and maintained their faith. I think that's great and they are probably healing better than I am.

And sure...Satan is probably having a really excellent time beating me down and putting these thoughts in my head...but the thing is...it's still true. It's not like someone is lying to me so that I will think this bad things are happening when they're not.

If someone can logically explain this to me, I highly welcome it. I crave knowledge and understanding. So far though, nobody can give me a proper explanation.
I still believe that God exists and that Jesus died for us, but beyond that, I'm not sure what to think or believe.

I hate cleaning my room. Not out of laziness or a dislike for cleaning- I'm relatively indifferent toward cleaning. I hate cleaning my room because it reminds me that it is painfully empty of what was supposed to be in here, of all my hopes and dreams, the corner that was his nursery that now has nothing.
I hate putting away the laundry because Nico's urn and his belongings from the hospital are on the dresser.
I hate dusting because there is dust on top of Nico. Nobody should have to dust their baby off.


I finally took down my Christmas tree two days ago. It was just a small pink tree in the basement...I kept looking at it and thinking I should put it away but then I wouldn't. Taking it down was a harsh realization that Christmas already happened and my arms were empty. Before Nico died and people asked what I wanted for Christmas I said all I wanted was a healthy baby. What a cruel joke. The only thing I've ever wanted, needed, was taken away and I couldn't have it. I couldn't have him. But Christmas is over and I can't go back in time to change things so that I can be joyful in the season. We spent way too much money this year on Christmas trying to chase and capture some semblance of happiness. It didn't work.
I was in the basement looking for something one day and I stumbled on a bag that had wrapped presents for him. Now they are sitting abandoned in a dark corner with all of his other things that I don't know what I'm supposed to do with.

Sometimes I go through the day and it doesn't feel real. But then something happens and the truth hits me like a wrecking ball, throwing me down and destroying the shell of peace that I have created. Then I'm walking around like a corpse- there is a knife sticking out of my heart and it won't stop bleeding but somehow I'm still going. People keep telling me that I'm strong, or brave, as if I had any choice in any of this. I don't feel all that strong, nor do I want to be. I just want to be weak and to not need a reason to be strong. I want to continue going forward with purpose and hope. But instead I feel like I am in the middle of the ocean, sharks circling me, and no life raft in sight. I'm treading water, but my arms are growing weak. Some days I have a burst of optimism and I start swimming towards what I hope is shore.  But it is an endless journey and I have to decide if I keep going, if I stop and try to find some rest, or if I give in and allow myself to go under and let the sharks have me. There is a large black storm cloud that constantly hovers over me called grief and depression. And everyone knows that storms are extremely dangerous when you are in the water. I try to get out from under it, but no matter which way I go, it follows me, taunting me.

I am thin ice. You can walk on me but it won't be safe. The next weight will cause me to crack and I think that crack will be irreparable. I live in constant fear of that foot coming down and destroying the sanity that I have left. I wonder how much my spirit can take before it is completely broken and what becomes of a person when they break. I don't want to know. I don't want anything else that I have to push through and force myself to live with.

Nico's face is forever etched in my memory, and the two brief days I had with him I tried to memorize every feature, each detail that made him unique; the way he felt and smelled. But those memories are fading. I didn't have enough time to build them. When you lose someone, usually you have some memories of your interactions. I have nothing but desperation and I find myself smelling his hat and his blanket trying to find a trace of him, hoping somewhere that some tangible piece of him will remain. I am grasping at thin air.
It's gone. He's gone.
But I'm still here and I don't know what to do with that, with this life without him.

There is a question that I hate being asked, both because it is painful, and because there is no correct answer. That question is, “Do you have any children?”  If I say no, then I am denying two people that I love more than anything.  I do have children, but I was not blessed as most are, to have my children alive.  If I say yes, there is the dreaded follow up of “How many? How old are they?” And I don’t want to go into the horrible, personal details of my life with someone that I don’t really know. There is also the case where it is a student who asks this question, and I find myself saying “No” because I can’t and won’t discuss that with a child. 

I hate being asked this, because it is a painful reminder of what I have lost. Because it makes me feel like a failure. I don’t care what people say, how many times someone tells me it isn’t my fault, being unable to produce living children twice makes me feel as though I have failed. 

I was told by a doctor that I probably would not be able to have children without medical intervention, but to my surprise about a month later I found out I was pregnant with my first child. My joy was very short lived.  About a year later, I had been feeling strange so I took a pregnancy test again. When it was positive, I felt equal parts elation and terror. We took every precaution to ensure this baby’s safety.  I left my job, we left our home and moved in with Ryan’s parents.  I was careful what I ate, and what I did. I got exercise, but not so much as to strain Nico. I went to every doctor’s appointment. I took my vitamins. I prayed every day for his health and safety. I loved him, and I felt him grow and move and take on a personality. I talked to him and I sang to him. I wrote him letters.  I prepared our room for him, I planned our lives. We had a shower and I went shopping several times to have everything he needed.

That horrible day still came.

My body still failed me.

That made two times that I had to go from carrying a growing life, to carrying a corpse inside me. Two times my body went into labor without the reward at the end. The first time I was put under anesthesia and my body delivered the baby on its own.  The second time, labor had to be induced and I spent a very long horrible weekend waiting for my body to be ready to deliver Nico.  

I felt empty.

Twice now, I had gone from feeling a person grow inside of me, to being an empty vessel with nothing to show for my hard work and pain.

I struggle daily with finding a purpose, for a reason to justify my existence. Two times, I thought I’d found my purpose only to lose it. I struggle every day with seeing people with children, feeling a horrible burning jealousy and anger. It isn’t their fault that they are so blessed. Yet I wonder if they have any idea what they have, how lucky they are.

As I go through the motions of life, be it cleaning, cooking, reading, watching TV or working, I find myself asking why? What is the point? In what way is my existence beneficial to the universe? And I don’t say this in a way to imply that I feel suicidal at all…that’s not something I would ever do. I know that I am loved and that people would be affected by me being gone. I am simply saying that I feel lost.

I feel like somebody dropped me off in the middle of a desert with no canteen, no shelter and no map; and I have to push myself every day to keep looking for water, to keep walking with hope that I will find life and the edge of the desert. It would be so much easier to dig a hole, climb in and give up. There is a very tiny, very quiet voice inside me giving me hope, encouraging me to continue.  Insisting that one day it will be better. Some days I believe the voice.  Some days I am certain that I will never find what I am looking for.

I miss my Nico so badly today. I dreamed about him all morning so I started my day off feeling that horrible void.
I had been having quite a few good days, feeling like my old self, feeling goofy. It was nice, but I had to fight with myself not to feel guilty about it. He knew/knows I love him and enjoying my life or not enjoying my life will not change that.
But how can you love someone so much that you barely knew? I had no idea this depth of love was possible, and it hurts so badly to not be able to properly express that love. I wish more than anything that I still had him. I wish I could have been like the women who get pregnant and just know that everything is going to be okay, that actually get to bring their babies home. I wish I could have that kind of innocence. I didn't even get to have a few months of that with Nico since his older brother died before he did. Losing one baby was horrible. Losing them both is unforgivable. People tell me that God loves me and that they are praying, but it doesn't help me feel any better. It just makes me angry. He didn't keep Nico healthy and safe, despite me begging and praying every day for months. Why would he do anything to help me now? I wouldn't even want his comfort when he could have stepped in and saved Nico and chose not to.
I get so upset when I see people who have babies, and then they're having a second and third etc. It isn't fair. And they have no idea how lucky they are. They never worried while they were pregnant, they just knew they were having a baby and their expectations were met.
Why would God create me to have this burning need to be a mother and then continue to deny me it? It would be different if I just wasn't able to have babies...but he keeps giving me a taste of motherhood and then taking it back. Anyone who told me, trying to give me comfort, that God just needed my baby in Heaven wasn't really thinking about what they were saying. If that is true, then he is a selfish jerk. He already had one of my babies, why did he need them both?
I'm sorry if this offends you, but at the same time, sorry but I'm not sorry. You can't imagine this kind of pain, so you don't get to judge me and how I grieve. And if you can because you've been through it, then I just want to hug you and cry with you. And also meet you to know there are others out there and that I'm not alone. And tell you how sorry I am that you have to feel this way. I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

Rules for surviving grief

I am going to start my own personal set of rules for surviving grief. This will give me something to remember and reflect on when I am struggling, and maybe, hopefully I can help someone else who is in pain.

Rule Number One: It's okay.
Of course I don't mean that it's okay that my son died. That is the farthest thing from okay in the world. What I mean is, it is okay to not be okay. It is acceptable, normal and expected to have a day, or several days or even weeks where the world seems like a gray, empty, and crappy place. I have days where I don't want to do anything but lay in bed and look at pictures of Nico. I know that it's not necessarily the healthiest plan for a day, but neither is bottling up that pain. Since I can't hold him and tell  him how much I love him, sometimes I have to just let my grief pin me down, even for just a few moments, because it is the only way I can have a time of feeling close to him.
The second part of this rule that is equally important, is that it is okay to be okay.  Having a day that I feel good, and don't think of him as often or am not completely broken when I do think of him does not make me a bad mother. It doesn't mean that I don't love him or miss him as much. Having a day where I feel okay means that the hole in my heart is not bleeding as profusely. It means that the stitches to that wound are holding for the time being, allowing me to be a fully functioning person. Granted, those stitches might burst and I might break down again, but I need to accept and embrace the good days and not feel guilt for them. Feeling guilty will not bring my baby back to me, it will  not solve anything. Blaming myself will only push me further down into the dirt making it harder to claw my way out to the sun and actually living. I can't bury myself in grief, no matter how tempting it may seem. I need to live, and I need to know that it is okay to live, and to live as fully as I am able, given how incomplete I feel.