Walking With You ~ Steps Back Into Life

This weeks talk on Walking With You: "Share about your first steps back into life. What helped you survive in the world outside as you took those first tender steps? Are there still tender areas for you today, living in a world that doesn't embrace or understand the loss of a baby/child? How do you cope with those struggles? What advice would you offer those new to this walk to encourage and bring hope? How has this changed for you from the beginning? If you are in early grief, what do you fear/struggle with as you try to navigate a new normal….life without your baby?"


My first steps back into life... looking at my feet that were covered in hospital slippers, walking down that cold darkened hallway, away from my life... that little boy that lay peacefully "asleep" in a beautiful wicker basket, nestled in baby blankets. Giving a final kiss upon that tiny precious head. Whispering a final "I love you," in his ear. Those were my first steps... into a world that never appeared the same, as it had before arriving at the hospital.

People surrounded me with lots of love. Phone calls, dinners, the most beautiful sympathy cards, etc. I knew that I was loved, and that others hurt for me, but just didn't "get it," by no fault of their own. They slowly trickled off into their own lives, leaving me with many thoughts and aches to carry on my own. I felt abandoned. As they "left," I locked the door. To the deepest depths of my heart. My pain. They were to be excluded. I suppose it was my way to survive. I wanted to be alone. Alone.

Sound. Taste. Sight. Touch. My entire being of who I was, had converted into a new person. A new woman. A new mother. All that I looked upon, was different. I noticed the way a raindrop rolls off of a leaf, maybe, because I had so many tears roll off of my cheeks in much the same way. I noticed the way the ants would carry loads of dirt upon their shoulders, just as I had begun carrying a weight upon mine, building the new foundations of my life.

I was to never be the same, but I knew deep down, I wanted to be better. I wanted to be a better wife. Mother. Daughter. Sister. Aunt. Friend. Neighbor. I wanted to reflect the beauty that I knew God had for me. There was no right or wrong in grieving. Only making sure that I continued to walk on the path that was straight and narrow. I knew that if I didn't wander off on my own path, that God would always meet me right where I was. Sometimes, I would follow Him, having enough strength to continue. Other times I had to pitch a tent, and camp out right where I was. I didn't want to go further. I needed more time feeling, breathing, crying... taking it all in. Being the gentleman that He is, I would be carried through the mud and muck. Then I would allow Him to continue paving the way... and I would follow. My attire would be covered in stains, torn with holes, wrinkled with doubt, but my tears would cleanse the stains, straighten the wrinkles, and His hands would mend the holes.

I'm miles away from the beginning, but never forgetting how I got this far. I need no reminders. I live, surrounded by them every day.

I see his smile when I sit and laugh with my boys. I see him run, while watching my boys play gleefully with one another. I feel his love, as my husband holds me. I see his eyes, when I look in the mirror. He is all around me. He consumes my thoughts. My heart. My soul.

He is, and will always be, my precious son. The little boy I continue to hike miles upon miles, through mud and muck... until that day, we meet again...