Peace

We are three and a half years or so in. Into the life without our firstborn, our sweet Hudson.

I feel like, at this point in this journey, I need peace. But maybe not in the ways you can imagine. Yes, I need the peace that surpasses all understanding, like everyone prays for. Especially right when your world falls apart. I guess I had enough peace to pull me through? I mean, I’m still standing here close to four years later.

But I need that and so much more. I need peace from having to apologize. From doing things so wrong out of the pain that is my grief and having to apologize. The peace of not having to navigate everyone else’s feelings. This! I’m constantly finding that I’m expected to navigate everyone else feelings about the loss of Hudson, time and time again.

I’m not saying that everyone else’s grief is irrelevant, but I dare to say my grief is the greatest for Hudson. (Aside from Denver.) But from the moment he passed, from his funeral, to grieving, to navigating getting pregnant again and ALL the emotions that entails, to having a new baby, I’m still expected to manage other people’s feelings and expectations, while some people still say whatever pops in their head without taking into consideration how hurtful their words may be to someone who has lost a child.

Dare I say I need people to consider my feelings more, more like when Hudson first passed. It’s the least I can ask. Most have moved on from that. I feel like a good reminder is that even when someone can plaster a smile on their face and laugh, they may still be hurting inside. And they’re very hesitant to speak up unless someone is willing to listen, which is few and far between. Most days, it’s easier to shove it so far out of my mind as not to deal with it. Hudson dying is just so messy. I would have never imagined the ripples it would cause in every single relationship in my life, mainly for the worst. I’d be very hard-pressed to say any relationship got better after his death. And those really hard relationships? I

think I’m no longer adept at managing those. Unfortunately, in my experience, some of those closest to you, including family, are no longer those you can count on to pull you through the tidal waves of grief.

My focus needs to be on my precious girls, to provide them with all the emotional support they need because Lord knows it’s not easy on them and won’t be as we move forward without Hudson. Being a mother is hard enough, and then add my immense grief on top of that.

Forgive me if this sounds brash. I think this is what I have to do to heal. I can’t continue to put myself in situations because “it’s what I should do” for the sake of my peace. It’s time for me to start guarding my heart a little more. I don’t feel like I can continue to show up in places I don’t feel that I belong and certainly not understood. Unfortunately, our lives reflect every parent’s worst fear, so I guess I can understand almost everyone keeping us at arm's length because no one wants to share that commonality.

There's a river that delivers me to freedom

And the current of His mercy brings restoration

If my wounds could tell one story, let it be a testimony

That You don't leave me where I've been

If this is healing, let it begin