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I know my grief has made me hard to love, thank you for doing it anyways.

December 4, 2019

There’s this moment every morning where I’m somewhere between asleep and awake, my eyes and brain are foggy, and I wait to hear the beep of Asher’s oxygen machine. Every morning I wait for it and every morning I remember that the machine is long gone, probably in the room of another special kiddo waking up a different momma. Every morning the silence reminds me that my baby is dead and that machine is no longer the background music to our life together. Every morning grief rears her ugly face and I have to make the choice to get up and try life again. Sometimes I can, and, sometimes I just can’t. 

 

Sometimes grief is a calm presence, reminding me of the absence in my life, but gently nudging me forward. Other times, it’s a raging force, hitting me like a freight train and taking my breath away. Sometimes I feel a desperation to feel Asher, to visit the cemetery, to talk to others who love him. Other times, I want to be alone, to curl up in my bed and just try to forget. 

 

Grief is a real asshole and it’s made me hard to love, thank you for loving me anyways. 

I know I’ve been erratic and it’s hard to tell where my heads at sometimes, thanks for continuing to show up anyways. 

 

I know your messages of love and support often go unresponded to, thanks for showing me you care about me regardless. 

 

I know I often cry and I can’t explain to you how you can help me, thanks for standing there, unwavering, beside me anyways. 

 

I know I am scatterbrained and forgetful, thank you for understanding that from this point forward a part of me will always be somewhere else. 

 

I know my heaviness wears on you sometimes, thanks for trying to bear it with me. 

 

I know the darkness consumes me more times than not, I’m grateful for your continued light. 

 

I know I am selfish and self-absorbed these days, thank you for remembering that I have not always been this way and for believing I won’t always be. 

 

This grief is hard and really scary. I fear having to live life without my baby, but I also fear how isolating and unlovable I am becoming. I’m trying, I promise. 

 

I know this grief has made me hard to love, thank you for doing it anyways.

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