Right Where I Am Project - 3 Months, 6 Days

Last night I was surfing around the internet looking for blogs that I could connect to and I found this one. The author has created a project for other mothers who have lost infants to talk about where they are in their grief.  I haven't read all of the posts yet (so far there are 40), but I can say they are all insightful and I really do connect with parts of all of them.  Here is mine.

Tripp died 3 months and 6 days ago.  I am definitely in a different place than I was 3 months ago. It is a place where my emotions don't feel as raw and a place where I can cope a lot better.  The place I am at is still sad and exhausting, but it is better than the place I was at just after Tripp's death.

I find it extremely difficult in the days around the 18th (his birthday) and the 23rd (his death day).  I feel like I am reliving those 5 days in February every month.  They are hard.  I feel relieved when I wake up the morning of the 24th.  It is over for another month.

I am beginning to feel more comfortable around pregnant woman and babies.  I still haven't held a baby and don't have any desire to do so.  Although I am feeling more comfortable,  I have had a very hard week as my best friend gave birth to her son on Tuesday. I am nervous to go to their house on Monday. I feel extremely envious.

The emotional ride I am on is twisted.  Sorrow and happiness wind together.  They are not independent of each other.  Sorrow and happiness coexist.  I can be having a happy moment and then a thought will rush to my head and I will have a flash of sorrow, or I can be sad and then my oldest son, Calder, will do something and I feel happy.  I find it impossible to put all of the emotions of one day into a single blog post. So, if it is a sad post, it doesn't mean my day hasn't contained happiness.  In the same way, even on the days of my happiest posts, I am sad.

I continue to struggle with God and religion.  If I am going to believe in God, I have to believe that God is completely loving. If God exists, He doesn't answer prayers, nor is He all powerful, because if God was all powerful He would have answered our prayers and saved Tripp.  I will not believe in a God that had the power to save Tripp and chose not to.

I say, "it's not fair" ALOT.  Sometimes I say it out loud, sometimes just in my head.  What happened to Tripp isn't fair and although I have learned that everyone suffers, I continue to say, "it's not fair."

I guess I have learned that, as cliche as it sounds, time does heal.  It just doesn't hurry up about it.


  1. It is not fair. You are right. And that emotional ride is twisted, sorrow and happiness winding together. At some point in my life, I didn't think it was possible to live with both of those things simultaneously. Like they were opposites, but sometimes the happiness reminds me of the sorrow, and vice versa. Like chocolate and vanilla are not opposites, sorrow and happiness can co-exist. And sometimes work together to bring a whole new flavor to life. Maybe I am working that metaphor alittle too hard, but anyway, sending love. Thank you for sharing right where you are. xo

  2. I decided a long time ago that life after the passing of a loved one doesn't get better, it just gets different. But you are right - time does heal and sometimes that's the only thought a person can hold on to in order to make it through the darkest day.

  3. As I was reading your blog I found myself nodding. It is not fair. I have echoed those same words many times for your loss, my own loss and the loss of friends well before their time. There is no way to really understand it, is there? Just know that it gets easier with each day. Life changes and takes a new direction - one we often don't expect or prepare for but it's our to embrace. I think your "Happiness Project" is wonderful way to pave that path. I admire your ambition and your strength. YOU inapire me to be a better person.


  4. Here from Still Life with Circles. I'm so sorry for the loss of your beautiful little son, Tripp. I do have to say that both your boys are simply gorgeous.

    Happiness and sorrow can certainly exist together in the same person at the same time. Sometimes when I am at my happiest, is when I wish that my daughter was with me the most.

    I'm sorry that you are struggling with your religious faith. It is very difficult.

    And it isn't fair. It really isn't.

  5. Grief is horribly complicated, especially in the early weeks and months. I'm so sorry for the loss of sweet Tripp. It isn't fair. It really isn't fair. Sending love x

  6. I'm so sorry you lost your beautiful Tripp. My heart goes out to you and your family. And, oh, three months out is such a hard time.

    And you're right, so right. It isn't fair. Not at all.

  7. I don't know if you'll see this, as I'm oh so slowly wending my way through all of Angie's links, but I wanted to comment anyway.

    I am sorry that Tripp is not in your arms. You're right - it's not fair (I'm over 2.5 years out from my daughter's death but I still think this and say it sometimes too.) I recognise the struggles you are having with faith/religion too - I'm just beginning to find some peace and clarity in that area. It is so hard.

    I like the sound of your happiness project.

  8. It isn't fair, and time doesn't hurry up about healing--I'm not sure it's time that heals, but the actual grieving. If you don't go through the crying, the rages, the silences, it doesn't get better. That is a very physical, in-the-moment act that changes the feelings, releases them. I don't know--I have mixed feelings on the "time heals" sentiment.

    But sorrow and happiness can exist together--they do exist together. That I know for sure.


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