Thursday, January 31, 2013


After a long blogging hiatus, hunkered down with my little family, trying to sort through the pieces of our life, I am going to try to be more consistent with posting. Bear with me.

Grief is the strangest thing. I can see why so much research and study has been dedicated to it. We all experience it differently, and we can grieve over so many things. It's not just about death. I mean, it is for some people, and that is a very raw, hard grief. But we can grieve any kind of loss, or even the thought of impending loss.
I get to hang out once a month with a group of moms whose kid(s) have rare and/or undiagnosed diseases like mine, and we have talked a lot about the different kinds of grief we have all experienced. Every one of those women have grieved the diagnoses of our children. The reality that those little lives will never be what we had pictured when we learned we were having a baby, the reality that we may never get to see that child play soccer, graduate high school or walk down the aisle, the reality that we will likely plan that child's funeral and bury our babies. There is real, true grief there people... all seven stages (or however many there are), and it is not unlike the grief I have experienced after Logan's death. It's ugly, it's hard and it's not easy to talk about, especially when you feel like no one could possibly understand.
But today, as I got to have wonderful, rich conversation with a sweet friend, we realized that there are more people who understand than we might think. We have all dealt with crap in our lives, and are still dealing with it. Maybe we should give the people we come in contact with a little more credit? Maybe if we gave others more of a chance, they would surprise us with just how much they can relate? Just because someone looks like they have it all together, doesn't mean they do. Just because they talk about surfacey, inconsequential things, doesn't mean they're shallow. I could come across as both of those things from time to time, and I can assure you neither is true. I'm dealing with it the best I can for today, and that may mean putting up a front that I have it together or keeping my conversations distant and pleasant. I have no idea how I'm going to be feeling from day to day or minute to minute, so it is nearly impossible to prepare for it (or give those around me fair warning). So I'm trying to cut others a little slack, because loss sucks - no matter how big or small - and we're all going to grieve over a loss at some point or another.
And here's the good news (because He always has good news)... "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." (Psalm 34:18 NIV) That is us, the grieving, broken hearted, crushed in spirit. Thank you, God.


  1. I don't know how I came across your blog, but I am so sorry for your loss.

    This post struck a chord with me because I agree so much with what you said!! It is so easy for people to put on a happy face and act all put together, when the reality IS that in this life we will have trouble. Our troubles/trials/pain may look very different, but experiencing this pain allows us to reach out and be real with people if we let it.

    Anyway, I just happened to read your words and they really touched me, so I wanted to leave a comment of thanks. Thank you for sharing what was on your heart, and being real.

  2. I'm glad to see you blogging again. I had just began reading your families story right before Logan's passing. I can only imagine your grief and your families pain. I will keep you guys in my prayers.

  3. Thank you for sharing these raw, authentic, and powerful words. I find that when I'm feeling alone, it's not that I'm actually the only one. It's just that I'm believing I'm the only one. Grief sucks. Grace strengthens.

  4. As a grandmother of an Alpers baby, I think of you and your family often. Loss is so hard and grief has its own existence - almost like another person in the room. I think of it as the waves of grief because that is how I experience it. And it can be strong and scary. Grandparents also have the ache of watching their children suffer their loss. It is like double grief.