Gilead

I was raised in the Christian tradition, studied it in college, have meticulously deconstructed it in my adult years. I have become one of those Christmas and Easter people, not because my faith only comes to life on these holy holidays but because I see the magic and sacredness in the season of Lent and the season of Advent. Times of waiting, preparation, getting ready for what was to come. And what was to come was a new thing entirely, an invitation into a world that is so radically different than this one. This year Easter has new meaning for me. Because as I stand weeks out from the death of my own child, feeling like I have lost a piece of myself and still reeling from the trauma of everything that took place, I feel like I have a deeper connection with the God I was always told about as a child. The God who allowed the death of the Son of God because Jesus' death was never just about the death of Jesus. The God who allowed a part of Godself to suffer and die for love. I u...

Great grief isn't made to fit inside your body. it's why your heart breaks Grief has manifested itself in my body. Awkward symptoms, none to be found on the sheet they gave me when I left the hospital on things to expect when your body is recovering from surgery. A lot of people ask how I'm recovering physically. Which I understand because the surgery was a big deal and left me with some pretty fancy scars and its the primary reason I'm writing this from the bed instead of working. And I usually answer with "I'm healing slowly but fine" and its the end of the discussion. Sometimes I prefer it that way because it gives me an excuse to duck out of the conversation earlier (if I was anti-social before I am extra anti-social now. I have to use my fingers to count the number of text messages and emails that have gone unanswered) Most of the time I wish you would ask about my dead baby. Paris . tell me you remember. Tell me you know this surgery wasn't...

My friend shared yesterday a story Mark Nepo told in his book the book of awakening. In it he told the story of this people group that, when someone was suffering a great loss or death, during the night their friends and neighbours would go to their home and change the location of objects outside their house so that when they awoke the next morning and went outside they would know that everyone around them knew that everything was different now. that the pain had changed everything. She went on to share that there is a way that we can hold space for people who are grieving that doesn't require words and that is full of love. It reminded me of a quote by Glennon Doyle, which I have been reminded of many times over the last few weeks as others have struggled with finding a way to approach us during this season of loss. Glennon says "When her pain is fresh and new, let her have it. Don't try to take it away. forgive yourself for not having that power. grief and pain are n...

I've become the kind of person who is angry at pregnant people. We went today to get a blanket for Paris, to bury with him. Everyone else walking those aisles looked blissfully happy. Some were pregnant, clearly glowing. I don't know if anyone else saw I was crying. We probably didn't stand out from any of the other parents wandering the store picking out things for babies. There was a pregnant woman holding a Tim Hortons cup wearing a white shirt and for a moment I wished she would just spill her drink on her white shirt and that it would leave a stain. I didn't want anything bad to happen to her baby. I just wanted something to happen and wipe that smile off her face. because I've become that person who is angry with pregnant people beyond reason. they represent everything I never got the chance to have. and don't get me started on parents who share pictures of their kid on instagram or facebook. Yes your baby is cute and all but I don't think I ever u...

I haven't written in a while. I hesitate to write this even as I type out these words because I don't know what to say. I don't have all the neat packaging and nice stories and I have a feeling my raw, uncontained feelings might upset people. I wanted to wait to write this story until I knew the ending, until I could get through it without crying, until I at least had a direction and a moral to this story rather than just rambling thoughts and words. But I also know I'm the kind of person who needs to write to process what is happening and more than just scribbling in a journal I need to share my words with others. So what comes next is the brief version of the course our family has taken over the last few weeks, with the hope of sharing more as I further process and heal. After being told it was nearly impossible for me to get pregnant, we found ourselves pregnant. Shocked, scared and confused doesn't begin to cover what we felt and immediately upon finding ou...