I’ll be completely honest, I don’t feel very “thankful” this year. Of course, there are things I am thankful for- but I don’t feel like being thankful. It’s hard to feel like expressing your gratitude when you somehow went from the bliss of growing and planning for a life to the agony of sitting across from a funeral home director, staring blankly at a catalog of possible urns and wondering what on earth just happened to your life. It’s all felt so surreal, until it hasn’t. And the worst pain of all is realizing you must learn to live a life without your child. To reconcile with the fact that those 66 minutes we got with Lennox are all we will have with her here. There is no alternative option but to live your life despite the gaping void. And the holidays make that void scream louder. Especially on a day where everyone wants to count ALL the wonderful blessings in their life as I sit here wrestling with the fact that there is (and always will be) one precious girl missing at the table this year.
I am not and never will be thankful for any part of losing our child, I will say that first and foremost. There will never be a “reason” or “it all makes sense now” moment from her loss. We were never “given” this because “we can handle it.” I can assure you with confidence that no parent is ever able to handle the death of their child. Nobody is themselves equipped for something so horrific. You just carry it, because, although it feels most days like your heart stopped beating the exact moment your child’s did, the reality is: it did not. And, unfortunately, you have no choice. Contrary to popular opinion, some things cannot be made pretty and cannot be redeemed. It isn’t that I have lost sight of what is good. In fact, I am more aware of those things than I may have ever been in my whole life. The problem is, that no amount of gratefulness will ever make up for the fact that my daughter is not here anymore, and the hole it creates can never be counteracted by a list of blessings.
This grief has been exasperating. It has been lonely, harrowing, and life altering. Unless you know what it is like to have a traumatic loss such as this, I can’t explain the daily struggles. The emotional toll. The lack of energy, motivation, and desire. The real effort it takes most days to present to others as your former self- as if you’re seemingly playing a part in the role of your very life. The daily reminders and triggers of a life ripped away from me. It has been a daily battle to charter the waters of this loss. So, my weary soul is just not able to sit here and list how wonderful this year has been. How fortunate we are to have made it through 2020 with more baking skills and newly discovered hobbies. I just can’t.
This year has solely been a nightmare, and all I have successfully been able to manage is making it through- even on days I never thought I would.
However, I do have deep appreciation for people and things in my life. I am more grateful now for loved ones than I have ever been. I am thankful for Hope, as Lennox’s middle name was always intended to be a guidepost for us from the moment we chose it. This very hope was given to us just last week as we just finished up our second surgery to fix a very rare and severe condition we discovered I was born. This condition made me unable to carry a baby full term on my own- and at one point over the Summer we were told it may not be fixable. Yet, after our second surgery, the doctor reported back that she felt it was more successful than anticipated. I am thankful for the love, support, and kindness I receive in this journey. I’m thankful for all the signs Lennox sends me and Broc daily, to tell her parents they’re never alone. I am thankful for a marriage that has grown stronger, and for a husband who is my rock through and through. I’m thankful for God who is grieving with me and carrying me through every single day. I am thankful for my beautiful baby girl and the short time I shared with her. And, I think most of all, I’m thankful that the only world she ever got to know was one filled with love. A mother's dream.