New office reveal!

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A couple weeks ago, I was working on something on the computer at home, and was getting so frustrated with the glare on the screen. I took a Thursday off a few days later, and one thing on my to-do list was to rearrange the two pieces of furniture in the office so that the computer wasn't facing the window anymore. Literally all we had in there was a desk and a little cube shelf (and my piano, I guess). Our "office" sat empty until just over a year ago, when I got tired of it being boring, and finally bought the desk and shelf. Since then, it has seen more use, but it still didn't feel complete. When I was rearranging, I suddenly had a vision for how I wanted the room to look, and Brandon was sweet enough to indulge me.

We went to Target and Hobby Lobby (the only important places, really) and spent waaay too much money. I initially had wanted a new desk, but I'm actually pretty pleased with how everything turned out, and don't feel the need for a new one anymore! Because we already had the two main pieces of furniture, everything else was very detail oriented and it was so fun to pick out little things. Eventually (hopefully) we will redo the nursery, and I will move Carter's blue curtains into the office (the white ones are just place holders, we already had them so they'll work for now). We wanted the office to feel sort of like his room still, and even though there is a lot of girly flair to it, there are hints of blue and lots of airplanes.

I'm honestly so pleased with how it turned out, and I really feel like I have a creative space where I will want to spend time working on the blog and my novels. Shout out to Brandon for being the greatest husband ever, and for understanding that retail therapy is a real thing. You can shop everything at the end of the post! (Use the code LABORDAY to save 15% on your total purchase at Target through Monday!)

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

PS. These shelves are handmade by Brandon! I wanted shelves so badly but couldn't find anything like what I imagined, so he made these things all by himself! (even though I was supposed to help. oops). Happy shopping!

This post contains affiliate links.

 

A little behind the scenes because the cats love it too!

 
 
 
 
 

Balance in all things.

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The title of this post is so completely opposite about my life, and I think it's hilarious. There is no balance to our lives anymore. Everything is the complete opposite of the way it's supposed to be. We spend weekends in a cemetery instead of the nursery. We spend nights sleeping hard instead of waking up to feed and change a baby. We watch a ton of Netflix when we should be watching our sweet boy explore the world. Sure, there are some beautiful things that have come from losing multiple babies, but for the most part, our world is in a constant state of imbalance and chaos. Nothing is the way it should be.

After our miscarriage I told myself that I could have two weeks to grieve hard, eat whatever I wanted, and not work out. Monday of the third week rolled around, and right after my counseling session I called Brandon, told him there had been a change of plans, and asked if he'd stop for Ben & Jerry's on his way home. Thus began a third week of heavy grieving. Last week, the same thing happened. We did the same thing on Monday this week, but then I stepped on the scale yesterday and something needs to change haha. All I know is that if Ben & Jerry's were about to go out of business a month ago, they are safe now, because Brandon and I alone are keeping them afloat.

But I found out last week on Monday that I actually like carrots now. After weeks of struggling to eat them when I was pregnant with little bean (literally, they would make me gag. I'm like five, it's fine) I actually wanted to eat them! And now I've had carrots THREE DAYS IN A ROW! I mean, I've also had Ben & Jerry's three days in a row, but still. Balance in all things, right? 

I've been trying really hard lately to do everything in balance. I take days off when I need to, I eat kind of whatever I feel like I need in that moment, and we plan our activities based on how we feel that day. I've always been the kind of person that plans things as much as I can, but since we lost Carter, I've gotten really good at flying by the seat of my pants. So much that it actually stresses me out to have to plan or commit to anything more than ten minutes in advance. It has been really nice to learn how to balance the have-to's with the want-to's, and I feel like it has been extremely beneficial in recovering. I've learned that it is important to care for yourself, because that will allow you to better care for those around you. Some nights we sit on the couch with a pint of ice cream and don't move, and other times we borrow the neighbors puppy and take her for a nice long walk/jog. It just depends on what I feel I need that day. The more we can keep our lives balanced, the more balance we feel internally.

That being said, what are some things you do to make time and care for yourself? I love a good movie or a nice long bath, but I'm always looking for new ways to unwind! Have a nice, balanced hump-day!

These next few months.

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I have six other posts that have been drafted within the last week, all just waiting to be shared. I planned to post one of them today, but decided to write something else in hopes of cleansing my soul today. Turns out that I just have a lot feelings.

These last few weeks have been SUCKY. My emotions have been all over the board, I'm exhausted all the time, and social anxiety is at an all time high. There were a few days last week that were really good, and I have a feeling that things will start to look up again soon, but overall...wow. It has just been rough. Ever since the miscarriage, things have been exceptionally hard. I think I'm just starting to kind of consider the idea that Brandon and I may not be able to ever bring a baby home. Our history is evidence enough that it is a possibility. I know we could adopt, but adoption is expensive, so it's a little discouraging. Actually, a lot discouraging. I don't know. Anyway, that's where I'm at.

We've been spending a lot of time at home just the two of us this past month, and it has been really nice. We've gotten some projects done around the house, and have just been able to be together. This weekend though, I just kept thinking "this is the way it will be for the rest of our lives." And what if it is? What if we are never able to have another baby? What if I just keep getting pregnant and losing babies? How long will we hold out hope? What if we are hopeful until it's too late and then I'm too old? People keep saying that I'm young and have plenty of time, but the two years since we started trying for a baby have gone so fast that I'm afraid the next fifteen years will go even faster.

What if the backseat of our car stays empty forever? How long do we keep everything up in the nursery? If we move at some point in the future, do we set up the nursery in the new house? Do we donate some of the baby things to a family who needs them? How many more trips to Disney will we able to handle without kids? At what point do we donate all the diapers that are still in the top of the closet? How am I going to feel when January rolls around and I have to donate all our wipes because they'll expire before we can use them? When do I finally let go of all the hope that I'm holding onto?

I love Brandon, don't get me wrong. He is my everything, and if we had only each other for the rest of our lives, we would be happy. But we'd both feel a little empty too. We have so much love for each other that we are ready to shower it onto children. We want to watch them grow and explore the world. We want to put all our love and energy into raising children. People tell us that we'll get less sleep and that we'll have to vacation differently and that we'll be broke from paying for extracurricular activities but we don't care. We want those things. We want them so bad that it hurts. And it hurts even more that it has been dangled in front of us and ripped away three times now. Talk about getting your hopes up.

The next few months are going to be difficult. I have two sister-in-laws that will be having their babies, Carter's birthday is in two months, and then we roll right into the holidays. I knew that the holidays last year would be hard, but I thought this year would be easier. I know it's not quite time yet, but walking through the Christmas section at Hobby Lobby already makes me cry every single time because I'm just reminded how empty our house will be. No baby to snuggle by the tree, no carseat in the back while we drive around and look at lights. Just two empty stockings hanging between our own.

I'm ready for summer to be over. I'm ready for cold weather that drives people inside so that I don't have to pass happy moms and children at the park on my way home every day. Maybe the cold will keep pregnant ladies and newborn babies at home too. But I'm not looking forward to the change of seasons as much as I hoped to be this year. Honestly, the thing I'm looking forward to most (besides becoming an aunt, obviously) is being able to stay inside on crummy days and not feel bad about it.

This post probably sounds so morose, so sorry to add some weight to your Monday. It's just one of those days where I feel like acknowledging the pain. Any motivation, hope or just funny things would be appreciated.

 

Anniversary Weekend

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Like most of our other weekends in the past month, our anniversary weekend was super relaxing! Friday night, we had fun going back through pictures old pictures of us, then got Costa Vida for dinner and just hung out all night. We've been really into Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy lately (because we're 90), so once we laid down to watch those, the couch was basically our home for the night.

We slept in on Saturday, then went to lunch at our new favorite place, Village Baker. Brandon's parents and grandparents were in town for a reunion, and they all came over for a few hours that afternoon. Brandon's grandparents had never been to our house before, so it was fun to give them a quick tour and share the nursery and all our Carter things with them. We have a bear that weighs what Carter weighed when he was born, and we have molds of his little hands and feet. I love sharing these things with people, because I feel like it gives them more of an idea of what he was like physically. It was really special to have one set of Carter's great-grandparents hold him (in a sense).

That night we went out shopping for a few more things for the office, and ended up coming home with new Halloween decorations (Michael's is really convincing, okay?). We also found an ottoman for the office, so we didn't completely miss the mark on our shopping goal! We took the ottoman upstairs, then just lounged in the office for a while. I don't know if I have mentioned it before, but we recently finished the office, and it feels so homey now! So we have fun just being in there and enjoying all the new things.

Sunday, our actual anniversary, was by far the best day of the whole weekend. We stopped at the store on our way out of town and picked up some mini-bouquets for the babies. We are constantly on the hunt for blue flowers, but rarely find any, so this time we snagged some blue ribbon to tie around the vase for Carter. Once we got to Logan, we went straight to the cemetery. I always feel such a rush of relief when we finally get to the grave. It was nice to visit with the babies again, even though it has only been two weeks since the last time we were up there. We cleaned up the grass and leaves around the headstone, cleaned off the actual headstone, and rearranged all the toys and goodies. Two more cars were missing, one from Brandon and one from his dad, so that was kind of sad. I really do know that other kids probably just picked them up (both times we've noticed a car missing, they had buried another baby, so it was probably a kid from another funeral service), and that's okay, but it still makes me sad! Brandon says that it's okay, because it gives him an excuse to buy more cars for Carter. And that's fine by me, because we sure do love spoiling our babies!

We stopped at Walmart really quick so I could buy a journal for a new loss family. Every time a baby is buried at the cemetery, I leave a journal and a note for the family with my contact info. I remember how alone we felt in the hospital, and I don't want anyone else to ever feel like that, so it's the least I can do to reach out and leave a little something. We went to the Crepery, stuffed our faces and finished the note, then went and picked up a gift from a sweet reader. I'll share that in it's own post, because it really is so special! Then we went on a tour of all the places in Logan that are special to us. We stopped by the movie theater where we met, the Costa Vida where we had our first date, Brandon's parents' house where we spent much of our time, campus, and both apartments that we lived in. At every stop, I asked Brandon what his favorite memory was there. It was really fun to look back on our almost seven years together, but it's crazy to think about how fast time is going!

As always, we went back to the cemetery before leaving town. I left the journal for the family, we chatted with the babies, took our picture, then said goodbye. Every time we leave, I almost wish we lived there, so we could go see them whenever we wanted. But we drove home, got Costa Vida (you can tell what kind of a week we've had by how many times we've had Costa), and spent more time at home thinking about our life and all the wonderful things we have together, specifically the babies. That night, we got ice cream and took it up to walk around our favorite little lake. We sat on the dock while the sun set behind us and talked about everything we're looking forward to in our years to come.

Brandon and I have so much fun traveling together, and we always try and do a vacation in the summer, but they generally never fall on our anniversary. We talked a lot this weekend about that, but I've decided that I'm almost happier just being home on the actual day, especially now that we've lost Carter and little bean. I love going new places with him, but being home with Brandon is my favorite place to be.

Hope everyone had a nice weekend!

 
 

Six years.

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I can't believe it has already been a year since the last anniversary post! Times flies when you're having fun. Or when you're losing your mind. Or both, really.

We did this last year, but let's talk for a second about all of the accomplishments we've had since we've been together: We've taken 17 vacations (that's three more than last year!), 16 jobs/positions (we added two this year), still have lived in three cities, owned two houses, and adopted two cats (though I wish it were more). Last year, we were ten weeks away from meeting our first baby. This year, we are about two and a half weeks past our third pregnancy that ended too soon. We've been blessed with our sweet Carter boy and little bean, and our family is now twice as big as it was at this time last year. We've spent more time in Logan in the past ten months than I ever thought we would, and we've had more sad conversations than I can count, but we've also been infinitely blessed.

This past year has been the hardest year of my life, but it has also been one of the best. This was the year we were given our children, and this was the year that I learned without a doubt that I married the very best man on the face of the earth. Probably in the whole universe, actually. Brandon gives the best pep talks, has the best shoulders to cry on, and tells the best (worst) jokes. He is extremely patient, kind, considerate, patient, selfless, patient, funny, encouraging...did I mention patient? He's my best friend, number one travel buddy, greatest support system, and my overall favorite person.

Seeing him hold Carter for the first time was my very favorite moment of our marriage, and I'm hopeful that year seven brings another opportunity to hold a child of our own. Losing our babies has been so hard for both of us, but there is no one I would rather do all of this with. All the cemetery trips, the stupid decisions, the grieving...I couldn't ask for anything more than everything Brandon does for me. He is the very best dad, and the world's best husband, and I'm so thankful for every minute of these six years we've had together.

Here's hoping year seven brings more laughter than tears. I sure do love you, b-rand. Thank you for everything you do.

 

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My children are my identity.

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There have been so many times in the last ten months that I have felt lost. I feel confused about who I am, who I will be, and how on earth I will ever be anything other than the person I have been since we lost Carter.

It's an interesting thing, to try and describe yourself. I can tell you very easily that I have brown hair and hazel eyes, that my nose is a little crooked, and that my skin is whiter than a ghost's. I love laughing, writing, eating, singing, watching movies, cats, ice cream, and hanging out with my husband. I can also tell you, with a little more difficulty, that I am kind, silly, deeper than I may seem, and that I care about others more than myself. I have a love/hate relationship with people in general, get bored way too easily, and that the only time I feel 100% confident in myself is when I'm dancing in a crowded room. There are surface level things that you probably know, then there are deeper things that you don't. There might be even things you know about me that I don't know about myself. But I have been so changed by the loss of our children that I don't really know anything anymore.

I don't really remember who I was before we lost Carter, and I don't know if it's because I am still the same as I was then, or if it's because I am completely different. Or maybe it's both. The things I would have told you about myself then are the same things I would tell you about myself now, but they feel different. It's almost as if, before, my traits simply laid on top of my skin, like they could slip off and be replaced at any moment. But now, they are etched deep into my bones. They are permanent, and would be very difficult to change. 

Or maybe everything feels different because there is sadness that lies behind it all.

It's almost as if, the day we lost Carter, I ran into a brick wall and everything fell apart. My composition stayed the same, but those traits were slammed into my bones and then I shattered. Now instead of being whole, I'm in little pieces. I still feel the same things, and I feel like I'm still the same person, but I'm having a hard time putting it all together. I don't know that I could really tell you anything about myself anymore. 

The only thing I can tell you for sure is that everything I do is done for our children. Every thought I have, every action I do, every word I say, they are all for our babies. I go to work to make money to save for the next baby. I stay home in bed because I'm too sad to get up. I speak kindly to people because I don't want to add to any hardship they are experiencing. I play with the cats because I can't play with my babies. I eat out because I'm too tired to make food. I spend money because my life feels empty and even though material things don't help, they feel good in the moment. I cherish my time at home with Brandon, because he and the babies are my world, and home with him is the safest place to be.

A lot of women talk about how they lost their identity once they had kids, and I can understand that. Going from lots of me-time to little or no me-time is a big adjustment, and I'm sure it's hard without that time to rest and recharge. It almost sounds silly to say this, but it's also really hard to recharge when you have too much time for yourself. I'm so sad and so lonely and so empty all the time, and it feels like the weight just gets heavier and heavier. 

I don't know who I am, and I don't know how to feel normal emotions anymore. I don't know how to maintain one stable mood for longer than thirty minutes at a time. I don't know how to be happy without being sad. But I do know that I am a mother to two perfect children, and wife to the best husband a girl could ask for. Even though I am a broken, our family is whole, and that is enough motivation for me to keep picking up pieces of myself, even if I drop a few along the way.

On sharing Carter's pictures.

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I had some nasty comments left on a few of my pictures this morning. They started with the picture of Carter I posted last night, and went all the way back to a picture in December. I always wonder why people waste their time trolling feeds they don't care to look at. If you don't want to see those pictures, go find someone else to stalk. But further than that, why troll the feed of someone who is clearly hurting? What gives them the right to drive that hurt in deeper?

Let's go back to yesterday. I was having a SUPER crappy day. Like, on the brink of tears all day, babies everywhere, wanted to just lay down and cry kind of day. We allowed ourselves some retail therapy, ate lots of food, and watched a lot of parks and rec. Late last night, I started scrolling back through pictures. I got to one I had posted of me with Carter, but honestly, the photo in black and white doesn't do his cute face justice. So I opened the shared file we have with all of Carter's pictures. I don't look at these pictures very often, maybe once every few weeks, and I think I kind of realized why last night. Carter is always always on my mind, one hundred percent of the time. But after almost ten months, a lot of times, he just feels like an idea. Like the time we had with him was all made up, and that the nursery was put together just in case. Looking at his pictures makes it feel real. I look at him, and I see my eyes, Brandon's lips, my nose...I see us. He is our baby. We made him. He's not just an idea. He's real.

The jerk this morning commented "why post a picture of a dead baby?" And while I kind of just laughed it off, because they aren't worth my time, it still upset me. Carter isn't just some dead baby. He's my son. Our son. He is a product of Brandon and myself. He carries our dna, and I carried him. I delivered him, we held him, we loved on him, and then we had to say goodbye. And then we had to bury him. He's not just some baby. He's our baby. I understand that some people may not want to look at a picture of my deceased child. In all honesty, I'd much rather be posting pictures of him with his eyes open, smiling, and crawling around the house. Of course I'd rather not be sharing a picture because I'm feeling sad, I'd rather be sharing a cute picture of something he did that day, and saying how lucky I am to be a mom to such a perfect boy.

Here's the thing though: I'm still lucky to be his mother. I'm still incredibly proud to have carried someone so perfect, to have made the literal cutest child (biased but oh well), and to have felt his little personality as much as I've been able to. While a lot of things are and always will be just dreams, we still get to fantasize about what life would have been like with him, the things he would have liked, and how full our home would have been with him here. We don't necessarily get to parent him, but he is still, in every way, our child. 

Like I said, I know that seeing pictures of an angel baby may not be something everyone is comfortable with. And that's okay. It's sad, and it's hard. Trust me, it makes me sad too. In the past ten months since we lost Carter, I've had a total of three negative people leave comments on my pictures. Compared to the amount of support we've received, three is nothing. So I'd like to take a moment here and say thank you to everyone that leaves such kind comments. I can't even begin to tell you how much they are appreciated. I'd also like to say thank you to those of you of may be uncomfortable with the pictures, but are decent enough to simply keep scrolling. You recognize pain, and you are kind enough to not make it worse.

The troll also commented "why smile at the grave of your deceased child?" Again, I'd really rather not be doing that. But there is something to be said for appreciating what you have, even if you don't have it quite to the extent you'd like to. Our family has grown by two in the past year. And even though our children are not at home with us, I am still so grateful to have them, and to know that they are a part of our family forever. So forgive me, hater, for smiling at the grave where two of our children are laid to rest. But I am blessed to be their mother, and knowing that Brandon and I have made a couple of perfect children is definitely something to smile about.

Missing the babies.

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If I had a dollar for every time I've said that losing a baby is confusing, I would probably have enough money to adopt every child in the world. Confusing isn't the only word I would use to describe it (though it's one of the more appropriate ones), but besides being sad and angry, confusion is what I feel the most.

I started thinking about this on Monday. It was 11:04, and I got up to go to the bathroom at work. As soon as I walked in the door, I thought, seven days and ten minutes ago, I walked into the exact same stall and found that I was bleeding. Seven days and ten minutes ago, I was pregnant, and now I'm not. In my last letter to little bean, I wrote about how it was weird to not have any active participation in her delivery. With this miscarriage, I just stayed home. I was kind of an active participant, kind of not. Either way, one day the baby had a heartbeat, the next, it didn't. One day there was a baby in me, a few days later there wasn't. One week I got to stay home and mourn our loss and deal with the physical pain, the next I had to come back to work and pretend like everything was back to normal. Whatever that means anymore.

It has been nine and a half months since we lost Carter, and with each subsequent loss I find it harder and harder to understand our new normal. In the span of forty weeks, one normal woman's pregnancy, we have lost three babies. Three little angels that have somehow broken and completed us all at the same time.

There are so many things I've written separate posts about that I could continue to write about for years and years: sadness, anger, confusion, emptiness, fulfillment, joy, grief, fear, dread. The fact that our house is so empty. The idea that when I go out in public, no one would ever guess that I am a mother. How unfair it is that we are unable to bring a child home when there are parents locking their kids in cellars or the trunks of their cars. That I'm terrified people will forget Carter and little bean when there are so many other babies in the world. How crazy it is that time still passes, and that it seems to go so slowly, yet so fast. I think a lot about the day my counselor had me choose emotion cards out of a deck. I think I chose like fifteen different emotions. Maybe even twenty. That's a lot of emotions for someone to feel. And it would be one thing to feel each of them on different days, but I feel all of them simultaneously every single day.

How is it possible to feel so empty and full at the same time, all the time? To be so thankful for what I have, but so angry at what I don't?

When you lose someone you love, it's kind of like a giant boulder getting dropped into the middle of a small puddle. It crushes a lot of who you are, and the ripples aren't so much ripples as they are just chaos. Water spills outside the puddle, breaking the serenity and the wholeness of it all. The boulder is too heavy to lift all at once, so to get it out of the puddle, you have to slowly chip away at it, piece by piece, and it takes a long time. But even once every chunk of the boulder is removed from the puddle, there's still a dent where it fell, and that dent will never go away. There will always be tiny pieces of the boulder that are left behind.

Every single day I'm reminded of the chaos this boulder of child loss has caused in my life. Depression, anxiety, fear, guilt, loneliness, social anxiety...the list could go on and on. Losing Carter and little bean have hindered my ability to function like a normal human (or at least as normal as I was before, anyway). Brandon's work provided tickets to a baseball game last night, and I wanted to go, but we got about ten minutes away from home and I just couldn't do it. I couldn't handle people asking how I was doing, or giving me hugs, or telling me how tough I am. And on the flip side, I couldn't have handled everyone avoiding me or avoiding the subject of our losses. So instead we just went home and I was sad all night. It's not fair that we're changed in this way. Of course, I would rather be this person without my kids than never had them at all, but ideally, I'd like to still be normal and have them here with me.

It has been a pretty crappy week, in all honesty. I hate going to work not knowing when I'll get to be a stay-at-home mom. I hate staying home because it's too quiet. But I hate going out in public because, you know, people. Thank you to everyone who sends me notes and special things and remind me that our children are remembered. They always seem to come at the right time, and this week has been no different. And to all you loss parents, or anyone that is going through a hard time. just hold on. The ripples get smaller, and each day you wake up is another chip off the boulder. We can do this.

"You're so strong."

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I read an article a while ago that sparked this post. I shared the article on Facebook, so some of you may have read it. In it, the mother writes "People comment on how “strong” my husband and I are. I don’t want to be strong, I want to be normal. There is nothing strong about living without your child. We don’t have any other choice but to go on without her; to go on living some semblance of a life while constantly missing her. There is no other option."

I've thought about this a lot since we lost Carter, and even more so since we lost our little girl, and now, after our miscarriage. People are always telling us how strong we are. We, like the mom that wrote the article, don't want to be strong. Trust me, I would love to have both my babies here and have people tell me I'm weak all day long. I would far take that over losing our babies and having to be strong. It takes so much work to be "strong." It is so hard to wake up every single day, get out of bed, eat, go to work, put a smile on my face, and help people with things when all I really want to do is scream and go home to sit in the empty nursery. At the end of the day, I barely have energy to sit on the couch with my eyes open. Some days I just want to drag myself outside, crawl into the backseat of my car and stay in the parking lot at work, because going home means I have to get up and do it all again the next day.

I don't want to be strong because I feel like the more I put on a show, the less people will remember our children and what we are going through. I don't want to be strong because I feel like the harder I try to be okay, the less I remember my own grief, and in turn, the less I remember our kids.

You think I'm strong because you don't see what happens when you aren't around. I put on a face for you because I don't want you to cry for me. I don't want to ruin your day the way all my days are ruined. I don't want you to feel even an ounce of the hurt I'm feeling, because no one deserves that. So you think I'm strong, because I'm spending my energy being strong for you.

But you don't see what happens when I'm by myself. When a song comes on the radio that reminds of Carter dancing in my belly. When I get home and can't make it up the steps because I'm physically tired from all the emotional pain. When I'm crying so hard that I can't breathe. When the skin around my mouth dries out because I drool a little when I cry. When anxiety sets in and I'm hovered over the toilet trying to simultaneously quell my crying and not throw up. When I get so angry that I throw the nearest non-breakable items until my arms are tired. When Brandon's shirt is soaked through with my tears. When we sit on the floor holding each other until the pain lessens. When every sentence about our children is a little stilted because we can't help but get choked up every time we talk about them. When we sit at the cemetery wondering how this is our life.

It's nice that people think we're doing well, and that we are being tough and putting on our game faces, but it's a lot of work. It's hard to not just call in to work every day. It's hard to not just lay my head down on my desk and will away the world. It's hard to come home to an empty house, or leave with an empty backseat. It's hard to live with an empty heart.

You can tell me I'm strong, but just know that you're lying. Maybe lying isn't the best word. Just know that you're wrong. I do things the way I do because I don't have a choice. Falling apart is not a choice because we have to keep going. Putting our lives on hold for grief is not a choice because time moves on and we have to learn to incorporate grief into our everyday routine. Giving up on myself is not a choice because at the very end of the day, I am all I have; I am the only one that controls my thoughts and emotions. Forgetting to live is not a choice, because my heart still beats for myself and our children, and there is so much potential for our little family. We have to live for that potential.

So you may think we're strong, but to us, breathing and living without our children is just a hard thing we have to do every day. It's routine but not, all at the same time. We're not just strong, we're loss parents, and this is our life.