I don’t know what’s worse.
Reminders… or the lack thereof.
One of the most deafening realities about losing Jenna has been the remarkable ability of life to simply go on, without missing a beat.
People I least expected, continued, and still continue to hold onto her memory. People I least expected… have let go.
Letting go doesn’t mean they don’t care. That would be ridiculous to assume. Letting go just feels that way.
Today I’m sad. I hate being sad. It is so pointless.
As if life isn’t already trying enough, having a dead baby isn’t exactly a social highlight.
I thought so much about my baby girl today. Red, white and blue ribbons tied to her dark brown curly pigtails. A ridiculously patriotic outfit no doubt involving massive amounts of tulle and a sprinkle of glitter.
Losing her has created a ripple effect that has affected every aspect of my life. Every. single. aspect.
I’ve changed. A whole lot- in fact I don’t even feel like the old Fran. I don’t remember what she was like.
I remember glimpses of that person, who had massive amounts of faith (okay I’m exaggerating, but just go with it), different ambitions, a little girl, her first child growing in her tummy.
Did you know I wanted to teach Jenna French? and Spanish? I was studying French while I was preggo with her, really studying it.
I wanted to get a masters in Art History – French was important to me. But I dropped that ball when the doc told us she wasn’t growing like she should be at 20 weeks. Studying French just felt ridiculous all of the sudden.
I remember praying for her to become a Christian when she grew up, to love God, and the things of God. Now I look back, for what? She would never need those prayers. She’s already with God.
I miss having a group of girls to hang out with, laugh with, share dreams and hopes with.
This was taken a few months before I fell pregnant with Jenna, in June of 2008. It was only three years ago, but it feels like a lifetime ago.
When I consider all the cards in my hand, every single one of them… I know I still have so much to be thankful for.
So much.
But sometimes I cannot get over how much her loss, her sweet, short visit has shaken my world to the core.
While life appears to go on without ever missing a beat, the ripple effect proves otherwise. She has forever changed so much.
I wish I would walk on over to your house and give you a big hug right now. I wish.
It is amazing how much these little ones can change our lives. Many many prayers!
oh Fran…… your words are exactly how i feel… just you seem to sum it up so much better than i ever can.
it is def a ripple effect.. one that never seems to stop…
i would love to remember what the old me was like….but then that would mean never feeling the love for my children…
bigs hugs to you.
{{{HUGS}}} Beautiful post and yes forever changed & so blessed at the same time. <3 Jenna <3
I feel you Fran..I wish I could wrap all of our pain in a paper bag and throw it to the wind..in the hope that even for a minute or two that it might just ease a smidgen of our hurt..wish I was there to have a girls moment of laughter and things girls do..since Vikki-Ann I have no idea what that feels like anymore..much love Fran xx
I know exactly how you feel. I wish I didn’t,,,, but I do. Hugs.
Sending lots of hugs my friend…..I wish she was here with you. I’d love to see that glittery tulle outfit! I know it would be fabulous :)
I hope you have a little peace today…..
xoxo
Our lives are forever changed. Lots of love to you!
Love to you and Jenna. The sad days can be crushing, and holidays only make the “supposed to be’s” harder. I thought of Aiden so much yesterday and I desperately tried to bring him up in conversation as much as possible, but how do you talk about your son who never got to experience his first 4th of July and fireworks show?
Love you tons ♥
i agree. their losses affect us at every single level of our lives. to think such tiny people could intertwine themselves into our lives so completely and quickly is amazing. and i don’t think we will ever be free of the affect their death has had on us as individuals. unfortunately and fortunately. thinking of you…
Oh goodness do I understand……..As Carly said, I found myself wishing I could give you a hug, sit down for coffee or just chat…I wish I could make it all better for you, for all of us. The ripple effect is lifelong, I feel as though I now am living in an alternate universe of sorts b/c if things had gone like I hoped they had gone So much would be different there are just not enough words for how different. The more time passes the more I am amazed too that of all the people in my life that knew me “before” and the ones that know me “now”…my sweet hubby still sticks the closest to me, I find comfort in that–that he knows both versions of “me” and loves me more everyday. With so many friends of the “old” me gone, he is still here, somehow that helps me, gives me some comfort. But honestly, it is just this blanket of sadness that I try and ignore most days but some days it threatens to suffocate. I thank God for other BLMs who really get it, who understand when I open up my broken heart and let some of the pain come out, they really understand. I need to go blog now! =) Love & Hugs to you Fran, it is an honor to know you. xx
You are so wonderful, I know that Jenna is so proud of her mommy.
I agree with every word of this post. Everything has changed, from the big things to the small things.
All of this post struck me, but lately the lack of someone to turn to IRL lead me to this sentence:
“I miss having a group of girls to hang out with, laugh with, share dreams and hopes with.”
I realized the other day, that my blog and email contact with so many other BLM is my group of girls to hang out with, laugh with, and share my dreams & hopes. Thank you for being one of my group, I am sorry that we met the way we did, but so fortunate to have you. Much love, my sweet friend.
Written so beautifully I couldnt have said it better myself… much love Fran!!