Right Where I Am

Angie at Still Life With Circles is once again putting together her Right Where I Am project.  You can see the collection of posts from 2011 chronological order HERE. If you just want to read mine you can go HERE

Last year when I wrote my Right Where I Am post I wasn't pregnant and as I sit down to write this year, my 3 month old son is relaxing in his swing beside me. What a different place I am in - and yet, so many parts of this space are exactly the same. It has been 2 years, 3 months, and 29 days.

I still think about Tripp the moment I get up in the morning and continue to think of him dozens of times a day. Everyone says how much our 3 month old, Boone, looks like our  4 year-old, Calder. I sometimes find myself staring at the best picture we have of Tripp and wondering where he would fit in. Every part of me misses him and the family we were supposed to have.

Boone was the first baby I held since Tripp. I would still say I don't hold babies, because the only one I have chosen to hold is my own. Things have changed since Boone arrived. I don't feel uncomfortable around babies. They still remind me of Tripp, but I don't get a negative physical response the way I used to. I fully understand why babies born after a loss are called "Rainbow" babies. I feel like Boone's arrival helped smooth some of the jagged edges of my broken heart, in only a way my own baby could.

I actually realized today that my first reaction to news of a newborn baby isn't envy anymore. Since Boone arrived I have found myself feeling joy when I hear of a healthy baby's arrival. The realization that some of my envy has dissipated made me cry. This isn't the first time I have felt myself grieving because I am not grieving as much. Grieving about grieving. Seriously? This journey never ceases to astonish me.

After Boone arrived I had many sad moments as I held him in my arms. I grieved not getting to do the same thing with Tripp. Weeks went by and I realized that I wasn't crying anymore about Tripp and I actually thought to myself, "I bet that the worst of my grieving is over." I felt a weight lift off and for the next week actually thought about Tripp and had smiles, not tears. I am thinking I must have been on some sort of sleep deprived trip. Grief over? Had I seriously thought that? It is far from over and I know there will be many more lows, but I did have a week of high and whether I lost my mind for that week or not, it still counts.

I continue to think, "It's not fair". I don't say it out loud as much, but it is still at the forefront of my mind. I see, hear, and read about babies and kids not getting the love and home they deserve to grow up in and I wonder how those parents, who clearly aren't capable of parenting properly, get to keep their kids and I didn't get to keep Tripp. I actually get so emotional when I am immersed in those stories that I tend to avoid them. I cry way easier than I did before Tripp and heart wrenching stories hurt deeper than they ever did before. Tripp has made me a more compassionate person and although sometimes I wish I had more of a heart of stone, I know that having Tripp has made me more human than I ever was before.


  1. Enjoy the lull in your grief or the calmness for a while, or perhaps by the time I've read this it has resurfaced, and hard. I hear you on the unfairness. People who did awful things to their kids and got to keep them was perhaps the biggest source of anger in all my grieving thus far.

    I think rainbow babies help heal some not necessarily by lessening the sadness but by opening us up to joy more quickly than we might otherwise have been ready for. Or that's how it felt in my case anyway.


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