Well, we made it to the first day of fall. I've been anticipating this day. Ready for the cooler temperatures. Ready to feel better about the way that I look because my cooler weather clothes fit much better than my summer clothes. Ready for my favorite part of fall...pumpkin spice lattes (though I've actually been drinking them for a few weeks now. Lol.) I know, I know...those are all pretty superficial. :)
And while it is technically just a day, it is so much more to me. It is a victory. A triumph of sorts. Though it included 12 hours of time that I would never give back (the hours in the hospital with Arabella Grace), I survived the worst summer of my life. The hardest thing I've ever gone through. I've somehow made it into another season, wounded & broken, but still standing. And I thank God for that. To Him be all the glory.
Today my heart still hurts. Not just for myself. For a precious person...a beautiful soul who I just found out today is suffering another loss. And for everyone who has had to say goodbye too soon to their beloved babies, no matter what stage of life. No matter how new or seasoned the loss is. It isn't fair. It just plain sucks. And I stand with you, wherever you are at.
"This was not your fault.
This will never be your fault,
no matter how many different ways
someone tries to tell you it was.
Especially if that someone happens to be you....
Do not believe it,
not even for a second.
Do not let it sink into your bones.
Do not let it smother that beautiful, beautiful light of yours.
Instead, breathe in this truth
with every part of yourself:
You are the best damn mother in the entire world."
This is just a couple of clips from her book, "You Are the Mother of All Mothers". I read this book almost every single day. It reminds me that I didn't fail. Not even a little bit.
To all of the mamas that I know who have lost their precious ones...you didn't fail. Not even a little bit.
To all of the mamas that I don't know but somehow happen upon my blog...you didn't fail. Not even a little bit.
While our motherhood feels invisible to the rest of the world...it is not. It is real. It is sacred. And it is hard. Because we mother with empty arms. We mother a child we no longer see, that we no longer feel, but that will always be a part of us. When everyone else forgets, we will always remember.
I acknowledge your motherhood, mama. And I stand with you, arm in arm...holding you up when you cannot stand, and leaning on you when it is me who is unable.