Sea Shells
I hold on to mementos like these dried sea shells. My cousin’s wife placed them in my hand the month after Adrian died, a symbol of myself and my son.
I hold on to mementos like these dried sea shells. My cousin’s wife placed them in my hand the month after Adrian died, a symbol of myself and my son.
I fight against happiness. I think that if I let myself smile, I will lose sight of my grief. I will lose him. Again.
No one is purposely tormenting me; life is just inherently unfair. And not just to me–I’ve also realized over this past year that there’s so much more that we all hide under the surface.
Today, I put on a pair of pre-pregnancy jeans. They are tight, and my body fills them differently, but they do fit. And this, surprisingly, is also hard for me—as hard as I worked to get here, as much as I thought wearing “normal” clothing would be a cure for at least part of what ails me, I also miss it. I miss being pregnant.
It’s become a trend these days to put quotes and proverbs on packaging, including tea bags. I used to find these captions comforting. I used to think I could handle anything with the right attitude. Now I often feel like these things miss the mark. Is it the proverb that is incomplete, or is it me?
After my son died, I moved to a new city. I took 4 days to make the drive, stopping often to take photos of the scenery. Taking photos was one of the primary ways I dealt with so many changes after his death, and after losing my phone with so many photos of him.
Things come up as they will. Life is complicated, and often sad, but very very real.
Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday, a reminder of the blessings and the beauty in my life. Appreciating blessings is a difficult task this year, but there will always be beauty.
I am a weed. They say I am strong, but I do not aim to be so. I don’t aim to be anything. I’m just here.
People said some (mostly unintentionally) hurtful and insensitive things after the death of my child. This is what I wish I’d said in response.
When a Type A personality grieves, at some point grief becomes her job. She finds old focus and determination. She reads books and attacks her grief with her previous energy.
Dear pregnant woman in my office – people are starting to get excited. They threw you a baby shower, and things are starting to feel very familiar. I wish I could explain why I’ve started to dislike you. I wish there were some logic beyond jealously and pain.
29 October 2017 is the day where I cleaned the last of my things from my house, I found the breast milk that expired before it made it to the bank.
I will forever love the sound of your name. #adrianjameshernandez
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