Right Where I Am - One Year, Three Months, 7 Days

Once again, Angie, over at Still Life With Circles is putting together her project, Right Where I Am. She has given parents who have lost babies an opportunity to write about exactly where they are in their grief. I participated last year. Click HERE to see where I was a year ago.

Right now, in this moment, I am sad. I have been wanting to write this post for a week, but I knew it would make me sad, so I have been delaying. Thinking about Tripp and ALL that we have lost makes me sad, thus, the procrastination. I love this project. I think it is so important to reflect on where I have been and to acknowledge how far I have come.  So I will take a deep breath and immerse myself in my therapy.

I had no idea when I started this journey how intricately woven my life would be with Tripp's. He isn't here, but yet he is here.  I get up in the morning and within 5 minutes I have thought of him. I put on my jewelry, I think of him. I drop Calder off at daycare and I think that I should be dropping off two. I make plans for the weekend, and realize I don't have to make plans for my one year-old's nap. I think about heading out of town, and I acknowledge how much easier it is to be packing for a 3 year-old than it is for a 1 year-old. I think of him a hundred times a day. And to think, at the start of this journey I was petrified of forgetting about him, because he didn't get to be a part of our daily lives. Tripp is in EVERY part of my life.

I still cry a few times a week. In fact I just moved to the bedroom so I could cry while I write this. I don't like to cry in front of my husband. It makes him feel bad. He wants to help me. He wants to ease my pain. And he can't. And I don't like to put him in a position he feels helpless in.

I can finally stomach being around babies. That sounds awful, but until recently, I would get agitated, nauseous, uncomfortable and sad around them. I would tense up and feel like the walls were closing in. I still haven't held a baby, and to be honest, I can't see that happening any time soon. The last baby in my arms was Tripp, and I don't want any other baby in his spot. 

I am still envious of other people's healthy babies and their "perfect" families. I have to take breaks from Facebook sometimes because I can't stand seeing all the new babies in the news feed. It makes me sad. Why do they have their babies here when mine has to be in heaven? I still say, "it's not fair" alot. Because it isn't. It is NOT FAIR that Tripp died. 

I have learned a lot this last year. I am better at reaching out to those who are suffering. I feel like Tripp's death has taught me how to do it. The people around me have shown me the way, leading by example. I have learned that I am strong and that I can get through the worst and even be smiling on the other side. I have learned that making connections with people is one of the most things we do while  here on Earth.

At one year, 3 months, 7 days, am on a more predictable journey than I was a year ago. I have learned a tremendous amount about myself and life in the last year, but I would still, much rather, be on a completely different road.


  1. I remember back when forgetting was your fear. I knew you would come to realize how impossible that was. You cannot forget something that is always there.

    I really cannot imagine how it is to be on your path, when others so close to you are on 'the straight and easy' path. I am sorry. I wish you were on the road with us also, but for some reason the Universe has planned a different route for you:(

  2. Thank you. For being so open and so honest and so true. Thank you for filling me with tears, and letting me know how you're doing, and helping the world to feel less lonely. <3

  3. I'm so sorry that Tripp isn't in your arms, filling your arms, in the space where he should be.

    That is such a lovely and true description, that they are in EVERY part of our lives. I also think of my daughter so often.

    You are such a kind and generous soul, I was so selfish in my grief. I don't think I ever thought of how my husband felt about my tears until much later. Your description of moving to the bedroom just broke my heart.

    It isn't fair and I'm so sorry that Tripp died. He was such a lovely little guy, I've just been over to look at this photographs.

    Thank you for this beautiful post and I'm sorry that you find yourself on this difficult road.

  4. Sorry for the loss of lovely Tripp. I too had a hard time holding and seeing babies. In fact there are some babies, almost four years on, I have never seen. And they clearly are not even babies anymore. It was just too hard, too close to home. So don't be too hard on yourself, we all do what we need to do to survive this awful mess that babyloss is.
    Sending you love.

  5. We've never met but I read your blog. You are an inspiration to me and enjoy reading about your angel Tripp. I've just survived (barely) two miscarriages in a row which just about ended me, but then I read your post and you have survived so much more and you keep going. Thank-you for that.

  6. It is not fair, you are right. I so sorry Tripp isn't here with you.

  7. I am so sorry you lost your little boy. It is just not fair and those few days of life, where you hope and worry for them... Oh, I have been there. Much love.

  8. Thank you for sharing and being so honest - I had SUCH a hard time holding babies and barely did until right before my rainbow was born. I pray your journey brings you more smile then tears and you continue to feel your son with you every day and that he send you peace and love as my three angel send me <3

  9. I'm so sorry your beautiful little Tripp isn't with you. I think the way you write about all the ways he is here, even when he isn't, is just perfect.

    And it's not fair. It's so profoundly not fair that to think of it just makes my blood boil. And probably always will.

    So much love to you.

  10. I'm nearly four years out now and I still think "It's not fair" so often. I don't think that aspect of my grief will ever be assuaged because whichever way you cut it, it isn't fair that our babies aren't in our arms even if, as you describe so eloquently, they are in every single part of our life.

    And yes to your last line. I wish you were on a path where Tripp was tottering and running ahead of you with his big brother.


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