In an effort to ease my hurting heart this fall, I am participating in Project Heal: Capture Your Grief . It's a photography/storytelling/healing project about the babies we've lost, and quite honestly, I think it'll do me a lot of good.
Day 2: Intention
The day I lost my first daughter was an odd one. I remember leaving the hospital, and everything seemed to disappear. I'm sure that cars went by, that I passed people on the street...but they all seemed to disappear. I don't know what the people who passed me by saw, a young lady, pale-faced and disheveled...missing her firstborn.
I remember standing in my parents' backyard, feeling like any second, the wind could just break me into pieces and blow me away. But most of all, I remember feeling alone. Completely and totally alone. My husband wasn't there. My parents weren't there...there was no history of this happening in my immediate family. It was the darkest, most horrible feeling.
About two years later, I had a one year old and the overwhelming sense to TELL someone what had happened that May morning. So I did. I told a total stranger, who later became one of my best friends. Over the last few years, I have met so many people who have been there, who've been through what I've been through, who have walked roads so dark that I cannot even fathom how they've made it as far as they have.
Being alone is the worst feeling when you've suffered such a tremendous loss.
My intention is to let every grieving parent I come into contact with that they are not alone.
Yes, the road is dark and frightening. But you are never alone.