It’s been a year and a half since my daughter, River, died. December 22nd, 2016, was the day the old me died too. I no longer see the world the same way. I am me and I’ve changed. I’ve learned that the world goes on while our world stops, completely.
After a time, people forget to call on your baby’s birth/death day, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, etc. Those are the people that have never experienced true loss.
I’m not saying people suck altogether. They just don’t know how to handle the “my baby died” bomb that hits.
The ones that say they know how it feels are oblivious to how much that stings. It just makes us loss parents want to scream: “No, you didn’t carry my child in your broken uterus for 8 months. You didn’t feel every kick, every hiccup, and every dance party. You didn’t have the daily migraines and the horrible morning sickness that lasted all day. You didn’t get put on bed rest twice to stop the bleeding that you had no control over. You don’t know what it’s like to walk into your bedroom knowing your daughter died right there while you slept. You don’t know what it’s like to be unable to walk into the nursery that should have held a newborn instead of tears. You don’t know what it’s like to decide to not get pregnant again.”
Then there are special people in the world that remember the moments that should have been. They send little sweet notes on the monthly anniversary, or 
stuffed unicorns with your baby’s birth details, and painted art. They call just to sit in silence with you or listen when you need to cry. They don’t let it feel awkward. They remember the days with you that should have had a toddler walking, talking, teething. Those special people are the people that are worth holding onto. At first, we resisted the love from those people. And then it turned into we needed that love. We needed that love to keep going on and realized how amazing they are for sticking through the resistance.
Those special people are the ones that will stick with you through the hard parts and are joyous with you during the easier days. They don’t realize how much they truly mean. Even though the world hasn’t changed, you have – they change with you. They’re the ones that say “it’s okay, I’m here. I don’t understand, but I’m here.”
Those special people are the ones that want to hear that River loved spicy food, had the hiccups twice a day every day, and had dance parties to DMX.
So, to all the special people out there: Thank You! We appreciate all that you did for us and constantly do for us. Thank you for loving us through our changes. Thank you for showing us you care.
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Jenny and her husband Robert live in Spokane, WA with their two dogs. They explore the outdoors frequently and go to places they planned on taking their daughter, River. After River, died they decided that life is too short to put off doing what you love. Jenny became a certified fitness instructor and teaches group fitness classes several times a week. They plan to open a small fitness studio and name it Viking Fitness in honor of their daughter (who was a Viking). They celebrate life for their daughter and take comfort seeing people improve their health and lives.
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