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I know you. I recognize you in the slope of your shoulders, the grim line of your lips, the tension in your back. I see your heart, mama, and I hear how it beats for, longs for, your baby to be here in your arms again. I see you trying to hold it together at work, at home with your other kids, with your family members who are pregnant "and it was surprise!" I hear the fights you have with your spouse when they are too silent, and too sad to be with you in the way you need them to be. I can feel the hot tears that well up any time you see a baby, or a pregnant belly. I know that you sometimes are deeply envious of women who seem to get pregnant and assume there will be a baby at the end. You are jealous of the naivete and innocence you used to feel prior to your child's death. You feel like you're stuck on a ride you can't get off, or you've been inducted to the "The Club I Never Wanted to Be Part of." You feel like your chest is cracked wide open, as if your essence, your soul, is pouring out of this wound that you are certain will *never* heal.

Sometimes, you feel tormented by grief, like your ribs are rubbing your heart raw. You are doing the best you can, and it doesn't feel like you can handle much more.

Here's the thing: You do deserve for your baby to be here, and it's so freaking unfair they aren't. You aren't crazy. Your feelings of resentment, anger, sadness, jealousy and bitterness are okay. You may believe you will always feel this way, and I'm here to tell you that you will feel differently someday. It won't feel as raw. You will have a good life. But, it will be altered, forever, by the tiny person you don't have with you here in this physical realm.

Healing starts with dreaming and building a life that is good enough. It means finding joy in little moments. It can mean rebuilding trust and intimacy with your partner outside of HAVING A BABY (I used all caps here because I know that's how it feels in your mind right now). Healing can look like creating in other ways, giving space to your grief with art, movement, words, music, gardening, etc. When we give ourself space to move through our feelings, the intensity will lessen. It will mean dealing with your guilt you feel about your baby dying or pregnancy ending. It's not your fault that tragedy happened in your life. With help and time, you will become better.

You won't ever forget your baby. I've talked with men and women in their eighties who still tear up when they talk about the children they've lost. A parent's love doesn't diminish with time or distance.

Know that I am thinking of you always. I know you because I am you. I've come through the other side, and I can confidently say, "You will, too."

Take exquisite care of yourself,

Hi friends!

I hope you all are doing well! I realized the other day that my neurodivergence showed up in the fact of... not showing up (i.e. not blogging since August- ope!). Here I am again.

I had a thought the other day (shocker) and decided it was something we needed to talk about. I go on walks for 30-45 minutes pretty much daily. It was something I started a little over two months ago, and now it's become a need. Yesterday, I took a walk in 35 degree weather, which, in Oklahoma, is brutal with the wind. I had bundled up, put on my hype workout playlist, and as I was walking, I remember thinking, 'Ahh, this isn't so bad...' until... gulp, I turned the corner and I was headed straight into the wind. I kept thinking to myself, "Well, this is a good metaphor for life. Sometimes, you're moving against the wind, and sometimes it's pushing you forward." See the photo below where I realized my mistake, but it was already too late. I was out there, and the walk had begun and I needed to persevere to the finish line.

It reminded me of an old Irish blessing, where the writer wishes for all manner of goodness and fortune towards the person they are blessing.

"May the road rise to meet you,

May the wind be always at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face,

The rains fall soft upon your fields.

And until we meet again,

May God hold you in the palm of his hand." - An Irish Blessing

Here's the kicker though: the wind can't always be at your back. Life just doesn't happen that way. In fact, if you live long enough, you'll have many times/years where you feel like you're walking straight into the wind. And the wind in these instances is icy, and there's a cold rain mixed in, and you're certain you've never been more miserable in your life.

All we are is just running against the wind. (Quick, name that song!) If you keep going, eventually, you will turn a corner, and the wind will be at your back again. Sometimes, as therapists, all we're doing is encouraging you that these gusty gales in your personal life can't last forever. You will turn a corner, get a new job, move on from that relationship, stop crying every time you hear that song, cease waking up in the middle of the night screaming, etc. It will happen. But your therapist has to be stalwart and steady throughout this process. They have to remind you that good times come and go, and bad times come and go. And we endure them both.

Here's your reminder: the wind will be at your back someday, and you will be grateful for the grit these experiences gave you, just as I was grateful for the wind pushing me forward during my daily jaunt. Keep going, moving, pushing, even with tears streaming down your face, even with snot running out of your nostrils, even when you think you can't do it much longer. Keep going.

Take exquisite care of yourself,


Hi friends!

I hope you are well. Over here, at my house, we are... not well. We are unwell, as it were. Ill, infected, we have the plague (okay, not really, but doesn't a bout of diphtheria sound more impressive than the common cold?). I digress. We are sick over here. And it's thrown a wrinkle into my busy, productivity-minded self. In case you didn't know this about me, I struggle to rest. Like, if I'm ill, I worry about all the things that are left undone and I can't simply *relax* and lay down. I do take a weekly nap every Sunday afternoon like clockwork, but that's after church and before I do my Sunday reset of all the chores needed to start the week off right.

So, I am writing this blog to let you know that it's okay to rest, and sometimes our bodies become ill to remind us of this fact. Let's learn to listen to these messages, instead of being disappointed we are sick.

It's okay to rest.

It's okay to pause, before you say something you might regret.

It's okay to reflect, instead of live in regret.

It's okay to move forward and forgive yourself for the ways you fall short.

It's okay to simply be, without striving and struggling for love and acceptance from people who can't give that to themselves, let alone you.

You deserve rejuvenation, and you deserve it more frequently than the quarterly cold you catch in August, November and March. The world needs people who can simply be and recognize their own inherent goodness, without having a checklist of to-dos in order to prove their worth.

This month, take some time to figure out where rest and rejuvenation, pauses and reflection are missing in your life. Add some of those things in, and let some of the busy-ness go. You do enough. You are enough.

Take exquisite care of yourself,

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