A Break From Grief

For those of you who can empathize, grief is exhausting. You don’t have to be a mom of infant loss to know how that deep pain can be debilitating. You don’t know how many times I heard “Well you had a long time to prepare for her death so that must have made it easier, right?” Well, I can’t really answer that question because I don’t know the other side of the story but “if this is easier, we need a new definition of the word easy.” The weight on my shoulders was almost unbearable.

“Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love.” Lamentations 3:32 NIV

I genuinely thought after Eve was gone things would get easier. Instead, I was numb and hollow. I would pick up my cat, Turtledove, and put her over my shoulder like a newborn and just sob. I would blankly stare at all the fall decorations coming to the shelves that normally would make me squeal with joy. What was wrong with me? If you have ever thought that, know the answer is NOTHING. Nothing is wrong with being in shock after death. Nothing is wrong with being changed from grief. I was learning how to be a mom of two with only one beautiful boy to show for it. There is no timeline for grief. Time does not heal wounds, it helps you learn to live with them.

Four weeks postpartum after losing Evelynn was Dalton and I’s 5th wedding anniversary. Appreciating and loving my life partner wasn’t the hard part but showing him was. I remember thinking how hard it seemed to make myself smile. I would look at him and want him to know how I felt but I couldn’t move my lips to smile or give him the words of affirmation he deserved. I wanted to get away from this person. I needed to remember how to be happy. So, the Kings sent Chuck to Memaws, packed up, and went on a trip to Asheville, NC.

It was about a 5 hour drive and I slept hard the whole way. They deep type of sleep after all the hustle and bustle is gone and you can finally relax. Asheville is known for the history, the breathtaking Blue Ridge Mountains, the unending brewery tours, and the artistic vibe. We settled into our home away from home and immediately hit the town. For the first time, I realized I didn’t have to pretend to be happy. I was happy. Before we had left home, I bought a couple of outfits that actually fit me and I didn’t have to focus on not looking pregnant either. I just got to be myself and feel beautiful again. I got to be the overjoyed annoying tourist.

The second day there was the best day I have had since giving my daughter away; arguably the happiest day of my year so far. We woke up to a beautiful day with a small itinerary. For the first time, I was excited to be out of bed and eager for what our day would hold. Do you realize how important that is? We hiked a couple of hours through a trail off the Blue Ridge Highway. For the longest, Dalton and I were stuck in the constant battle of our journey and then stuck in grief. The weight of our past was left on that trail as we sweat and laughed our way out of the mud. The momentum was contagious. I could physically feel burdens being lifted off my shoulders. We were finally moving forward, looking at each other with joy in our eyes instead of through the tears. I couldn’t remember joyfully laughing before this trip. I was looking at God’s beautiful creation with songs of joy and thanksgiving on my heart. The rest of the day was spent flirting and dancing our way through Asheville.

Everywhere we went, there was people to talk to and laugh with. I didn’t dread being in a crowd because I was a stranger in a town were no one knew me. I didn’t get the looks of heartbreak and disappointment from others who know I’m the one with the dead baby. I wasn’t afraid to run into someone who knew I was pregnant and then have to explain my baby wasn’t alive. We were just “Dalton and Jenna from outside Nashville here to celebrate our Anniversary.” I relished in the fact it was so simple, even though internally it was so much more. Despite all the people and busyness of a city, the trip was so intimate. There were so many moments where it felt like we were the only ones there. Hand in hand focusing on each other with, quite literally, nothing in-between us. It felt so good. I had come so far. It was a brief break from all the grief.

Just like Evelynn, it was a gift from God.

Day 25. October 25th, 2018 was my 30th Birthday. I love Birthdays. This year for obvious reasons feels different and because of that it was a day of healing self-preservation. Evelynn would want that. A dinner party was cancelled and an intimate dinner with my nucleus was in its place. The day was spent showering love for myself with my cheer squad rooting me on. Starting at a local coffee shop then a 3 hour massage, trip to the salon, and a large crème tart to share. It felt so right. I was so content. I know she was smiling down on me. Here’s to 30 and thriving. Cheers.

Day 26. Most of the days I write these blogs, you’ll find me in the silence of my home with turtledove in my lap and Evelynn beside me. I curl up in this corner of my house so I can feel close to her, close to God, and close to a wind chime that was hung to honor her. It’s on the front porch right outside the window. It was a gift from the doctors where I work and it’s melody is soft and rhythmic. Dalton says it sounds like it should be in a Harry Potter movie. Every time the wind sends us that sweet song, I think of Eve and know she’s sending her love.

“Sometimes in the wind of change we find our true direction.” Unknown