The Meaning of Okay

Friends and family, I want you to know that I love when you check in on me. Just knowing you’re thinking of my angel and me can turn my whole day around. I feel your love surrounding me and am so thankful for your support, but there’s one thing I have to let you know. I lie each time you ask me how I’m doing. When I say I’m okay, I’m actually not okay at all.

Instead of telling you the whole truth about how I’m feeling, I tell you this small lie for the sake of conversation. I can tell each time I speak his name you start to get uncomfortable. I understand that he’s not the only person you think about like I do; maybe that’s why holding a conversation with me doesn’t last that long anymore. My answer of okay is the best I can do to seem ‘normal.’

In reality, losing a baby feels like the most unnatural loss in the whole entire universe. There are no words to encapsulate how this feels, so okay does the job of letting you know that I’m not in anyway good, but trying my best to keep going. It’s the easiest word to tell you because you can interpret it anyway that makes this conversation easy for you. But if you really listen, you’ll hear what okay really means.

Okay means I’m barely surviving. 

Okay means all I can think about is Jensen and I want to tell you all about him.

Okay means I don’t know how I got out of bed today, but I’m here.

Okay means I’m on the verge of tears right at this second, please hold me if they come.

Okay means I’m trying to figure out this life after loss and it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

Okay means ask me anything about Jensen just so I can hear someone else say his name.

Okay means I’m afraid you’re going to forget him and his name.

Okay means accepting my new life as a mother without a child she can hold.

Okay means I’m trying the best I can and still feel like I’m failing.

Okay means I want you to ask more and not accept this little lie.

Life after loss is continuously changing. There are good days of grief where all the happy memories of being with him flood my mind. Then there are days where all I can do is breathe. For both of these types of days, I’m still learning what I need from myself and from each of you. As another day passes, my answer to your question of how I’m doing changes in my head. Yet, I will always answer that I’m doing okay out loud to you. I hope that you’ll be able to remember that okay means anything but okay.

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On April 5, 2016, Danielle’s life changed forever when her first-born son, Jensen Grey, was born asleep. Now she is learning how to live her life again by honoring her son and journeying through grief. She blogs at jensengrey.com

10 thoughts on “The Meaning of Okay”

  1. I am so very sorry for your loss. I carried identical twins for my twin sister and the oldest of my nieces passed away in what we were assured was routine heart surgery and instead the whole situation turned into a living nightmare. My youngest niece is doing wonderfully, but the ache of losing her twin will never go away. Many friends and family never mention Irene at all, and don’t understand how we think of her often and will for the rest of lives. You are never the same, and I think people think you “move on” at some point, but you don’t. Some days are ok, some are agonizing, but we will all think of our children at some point of every day for as long as we live and that is what is ok. And many people who haven’t experienced this loss for some reason don’t grasp that. Sending you my thoughts and hugs.

  2. Danielle, thank you so much for this. When I share this, everyone will know my little secret. The secret of what okay REALLY means. You said it exact and so well.
    I say “okay” because it absolutely makes the conversation continue but I’m definitely not okay.
    I say “okay” because I’m afraid if I let them really know how I’m feeling I won’t get a return call. I already feel so alone and can’t stand to possibly lose anyone else.
    I lost my firstborn and only little girl on 4/08/16 and delivered her on 4/10/16 at 34 weeks. The best and worst day of my life. I was able to see her beauty, but had to say goodbye.
    I’m so sorry for your loss as well. So very sorry.
    Thank you for this article it makes me feel so much more sane to know that other loss-mommas use this word as well, but we aren’t okay. In fact, most days we are far from it. ❤️

  3. I was 32 weeks 3days when my son Matthew was born sleeping. This definitely helped me to read, and to know I’m not the only one who feels exactly this way. I miss my angel so much. I feel it gets worse everyday. Thank you for defining “the meaning of okay”, your words speak so much truth to those who have no idea what this is like.

    1. Carly,

      I’m so very sorry for the loss of your son, Matthew. You’re not alone through this journey or in some of these crazy thoughts we all have. I know these days are hard and that feeling of missing him every second of the day. Thank you for sharing Matthew with me.

      Love and hugs,
      Danielle

  4. I lost my little girl at 40 weeks 1 day, on May 22nd of this year, and I just wrote about almost this exact same thing…the meaning of “okay” and how we all define it differently. It is the word that is the most socially acceptable, and it lets us feel like we aren’t lying. Usually. It’s so hard to be honest, despite our deepest desires to be so.

    http://alllthethings.com/dear-ayden/

    1. Bethany,

      I’m so very sorry for the loss of your precious daughter, Ayden. I read through what you wrote on Dear Ayden. I find it interesting that all of us moms after loss think similar thoughts. Okay after loss will always be different and that’s perfectly okay.

      Hugs,
      Danielle

  5. To read this makes me see that my thoughts are ‘normal’, when I repeat this time after time in a retail position each day… But in m pay mind I think …. I’m not ok, but I can’t be bothered saying how I really feel… Thank you, for giving me some sanity in this hell that has held me for 8 weeks now xx

    1. Rochelle,

      At week eight, I honestly thought I was going insane. I paced around the house, crying, and somehow laughing hysterically. Let me tell you, you are not insane. You lost your precious child, which I am very sorry about, but you are never alone through this journey.

      Sending you so many hugs and love,
      Danielle

  6. Excellent post. I had a friend recently ask me “why I am just okay” I was blown away and wanted to scream… I lost a child!!!! I try to remind myself that they don’t understand what still mothers go through, but it is hard most times to see how insensitive people can be.

    1. Sadè,

      First, I’m so sorry about your loss and all of our losses. It’s unfair to live childless everyday, but we’re doing the very best we can. I can understand wanting to scream that to your friend. The same thing has happened to me. We would never want them to know this pain, but just understand it’s okay to feel whatever we are that day!

      Love and hugs,
      Danielle

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