This week was a struggle.  I struggle to not beat myself up.  I struggle to not dwell on things I can’t control – to embrace that my emotions are okay.  To remind myself that my daily pain is acceptable.

It has been four months since we lost our baby. And although I am beyond overjoyed about our new addition, I am still struggling with the loss of our first.  A day doesn’t pass that I am not aware of the missing piece to our family puzzle. Silly things, like buying two baby Halloween pumpkins instead of one, prove that neither of us have completely moved on from the sorrow of this summer. And every car ride provides a song about loss that is still capable of moving me to tears.

Sometimes I begin to feel as though I am being ungrateful.  As if I don’t appreciate the new opportunity that was given to me; to us. But I do, more than words can express. I thought that conceiving again would repair the broken part of my soul but it hasn’t.  Now I have a huge part of me that is unbelievably happy and excited AND a second part that I keep hidden for quiet drives in the car – times when I can mourn without feeling like a horrible person, an ungrateful woman, and a bad mother. Because I get it.  I know just how lucky we are. I understand how many people would die to be in our position.

I just can’t help it. I am trying to come to terms with the fact that my pain is okay. It is a daily struggle.

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