Lysa...and her #imperfectprogress

This weekend I celebrated a precious girl that I’ve been blessed to “mommy” for 3 years while shattered with grief over “mommying” that I will never get to experience...

Smiling through the tears or tears masked with smiles...I’m not really sure. All I know is that it was a balancing act covered in Grace.

#imperfectprogress

Moving forward with Selfcare...

Going back to work this week was hard....really hard. I am emotionally drained and physically exhausted but by the grace of God and some loving coworkers I survived it. 

It was hard but necessary. 

Emotional but healing. 

It was self-care in the greatest way.

Party of 5

Simpson, party of 5. You won’t hear that about us at a restaurant. You won’t see extra mouths to feed or bottoms to seat. You won’t hear a teacher say “oh no another Simpson sibling.” You won’t see us with a booster and two car seats in our third row SUV or see us run between soccer games on a Saturday. You will only see 3 of us, but we’re a party of 5. We carry two more, not in our arms but in our hearts. Not by the hand, but constantly on our minds. 

We are a party of 5. 

We will always be a party of 5. 

*Henry has a temporary marker until his headstone is complete. *

A Turtle? Seriously.

I’ve been here before so one might assume I know what I’m doing with this whole grief thing...but I didn’t really do it last time. Fresh grief, that is. I did go through the grief process, but it was 2 years after Berk died. When we lost Berk, I was sure that everything would be fine. I marched on, numbing my pain with projects and working overtime. I forced smiles and even “faith” at times. I didn’t allow myself time to grieve immediately. So that being said, this is kinda new. I know how NOT to handle loss so I’m trying to deal with my most recent loss now, while it is fresh. And I’m super annoyed. In fact that’s the word I used to describe it to my therapist today. You see today I showered, put on makeup and a cute outfit that I named my “not just a grieving mother” outfit with intentions of being a bit stronger than I was yesterday. Yesterday was down right awful. I had a plan for some organizing and grocery shopping but as soon as I had a full buggy at the bargain hunt I saw a pregnant lady loading diapers in a buggy and I found myself leaving in tears. No purchases, full buggy on the diaper aisle. I drove to Walmart hoping to calm down and buy groceries, nope. Drove to the cemetery thinking I just needed to be with my babies, nope. I drove in circles for an hour...I was unable to calm down and face anything. I decided that today was going to be more than that so I put on my outfit ready to face the day. I had some errands before my appointment and I was also able to have lunch with my David so all was going to be okay...Until I saw a baby in Academy. See I was in Academy because in an effort to reclaim myself and my body I need new tennis shoes...

First is was the football gear, football gear for a boy I will not get to raise. Then it was the smell. Something reminded me of the hospital. And then I saw a baby boy...goodbye sanity and tennis shoes. I immediately left. This time, able to keep in my tears, I walked over to Bealls. I’ve only been in this store a few times and at this point I was just trying to distract myself until the all important therapy session where I would announce myself as “not just a grieving mother”. In Bealls I found a metal fragrance turtle. I have zero idea why I even picked this doodad up but I did....and then I lost control of my tears. I literally walked around this store crying and holding a metal turtle...y’all this went on for a good 20 minutes. A TURTLE. 1. I don’t do doodad trinkets so I would never pick this up. 2. The fragrance stunk. But here I was, once again, crying in a store. I put down the turtle and left this time in pursuit of coffee. Because drinking coffee keeps me breathing....end errand saga.

Later..in therapy, after I announced myself as “not just a grieving mother”, I realized that the cute dress I was wearing, though you wouldn’t know it, was actually a maternity dress. Yup. Torn between grief and moving forward, you’ll find me.

>Emoji with hand raised< 

But tonight I can’t stop thinking about the damn turtle, yes I cussed. In the moment it seemed stupid and had this not been laid on my heart, it probably would still but maybe the turtle is a symbol of progress. >Insert all turtle analogies here< 
Turtles move slow...really slow but they do move. And yes I just lost my son 2 weeks ago so I don't expect myself to move mountains but the ups and downs are so dang annoying. I can deal with good and i can deal with bad..but creeping up grief with uncontrolled tears, nerp...can't do it. But here I am, blogging about how maybe this gold metal fragrance turtle was speaking to me. Here I am surviving another day with little messages from Jesus...via a gold fragrance turtle. So what my “not just a grieving mother” outfit still dawned a maternity dress? I got up and wore more than gym shorts...progress is progress, no matter the pace. So what I cried in Bealls? I made it through one store without crying and that’s progress. I am going to try and remember that even on the awful can’t function days, getting up is progress and on the days where you feel like you can conquer the world, emotional moments will come ...but that’s still progress too. Learning that its completely okay to be sad one minute and find happiness the next, is progress. 
Right? Right. 

Damn turtle...

I’m holding on to Faith, but barely breathing

This is not a pretty post. There is no uplifting ending where my faith has gotten me through the trenches....nope, won’t find that here, not yet anyway. 

I’ve had 3 babies in less than 6 years. I have sacrificed my body and heart for my babies. I have prayed over all 3 babies in NICU yet I only hold one at home. I have given all 3 over to God in hopes that His will would look something like mine...yet here I am again. Grieving. Barely breathing. With a heavy heart and empty arms. Once again I am trying to come to terms with why I can’t carry a baby full term. Once again I am spending my days and nights reminding myself that Gods plan isn’t ours. That His plan is better than mine. That His plan will reveal in time and until them I have to rely on my faith. 

It’s been a week now since we held our Henry. It’s been a week since we rocked him into Jesus arms. So right now, I am not in the best of places. I’m angry. I’m hurt. I’m confused. I’m lonely. My insides feel empty. I am mad at myself. I am mad at the situation. My mind doesn’t stop thinking about the whys and what ifs. I know that eventually I will get in a better place but now, now I’m not there. The real Lauren wants answers. The real Lauren wants to have a house full of babies and is bitter that she can’t. Now, don’t get me wrong, I know I’ll be okay. I know that God will carry me...He did it before and I know He is right now. I don’t doubt His goodness or His plan...I just don’t understand it yet. I know, I don’t have to understand to have faith so you have to understand that this is not a lack of faith. It’s a case of my desires not matching His will.

While I was on bed rest I said these words...

“It’s not that I don’t have the faith that God can keep me pregnant and protect my Henry. It’s that I don’t know that He will.” That is what I was most scared of, that my desires would not match His will. And here I am, and they don’t. I prayed they would because I was most scared of the darkness of grief. I barely survived it with Berkley and it took me years to get back to myself...I didn’t want to walk that dark road again. But here I am...barely breathing and dragging my feet.

I stink at not being okay and the fact that I have no inspiration at the end of this post is so not like me, but this grief stuff, this mucky darkness...it’s got a hold of me and I have zero inspirational “God will carry me” super spiritual things to say. I do know eventually I will see the good and His plan will make more sense but right now, right now I’m barely breathing.