There’s no doubt that I’ve been having a hard time getting back into writing. It’s been something I’ve been constantly beating myself up about and wondering why the words just aren’t there, why I can’t think of what to talk about, and what exactly the future of Missing Pieces looks like. So much change is happening between moving into a new house and starting home projects to transitioning back to work after our stay-cation. It’s left me feeling guilty for slacking on the blog front and for wondering if this is even something I should continue doing. Lately, the good days have been outweighing the bad and even though Bennett and Hallie cross my mind daily, it’s not as painful anymore. It doesn’t hurt so much to think about them or think about what life “should have been,” because the truth is, I’m more than content with the reality of life right now.

But living in this idea that I may be content with exactly where I’m at has left me feeling guilty and almost like it shouldn’t be allowed or I’m a bad person because of it. I’ve had conflicting thoughts like “How can I feel so happy and things feel like they’re falling into place when Bennett and Hallie aren’t here?” or “Is something wrong, because it just doesn’t hurt like it used to?”. It’s been an internal struggle that I’ve been dealing with for a while, but have yet to actually face. I think it’s hard to face the idea that maybe I’m healing. I don’t always feel like I’m drowning anymore and I don’t let the fact that I had two miscarriages consume my thoughts 24/7. But how can I feel this way and not feel like I’m doing some type of disservice to their little lives?

Loss is a weird, confusing, and overall unexpected experience to say the least. There’s no road map or step-by-step instructions that have told me exactly how I would feel or how to navigate through this journey. For a long time I felt stuck. I constantly wondered how everyone else could go on with their lives when my world had crashed and burned. It honestly felt like the world was moving on without me. I felt like I was in auto-pilot and like I was going through the motions, but was never actually present in what was going on around me.

But to be honest, it feels like right now I’m in uncharted waters. I’m at a spot that I would always hear people talk about, but never believed them when they said that I’d get there someday too. I’ve gotten to a point where I have moments, instead of days, that feel painful. And even when that pain is present, it’s just a dull ache now. When people ask me if I have any children, it no longer stings. I don’t feel like I have to ignore the fact that I’ve had miscarriages anymore, because I feel that by sharing my story, it allows for other’s to feel they can share theirs as well and that to me is something so beautiful.

The truth is, Bennett and Hallie are still very present in my life now. As terrible as it sounds, it felt like the weight of grief I carried for them outweighed everyone and everything else. It was like I had these grief blinders on and that no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t figure out how to live life without hurting and pretty much hating everything. But lately things have shifted in a way that those grief blinders have transitioned to finding appreciation and noticing them in new ways. It’s seeing a pair of cardinals flying by when I’m out with Hank for a walk at a moment when I’m looking for reassurance. It’s seeing my tattoo every day, but every now and then stopping to really admire the beauty behind it. It’s as simple as the necklace I wear every single day that has only their initials on it as a reminder that they are always with me. I’ve learned to find the beauty in their lives, rather than the sorrow in their loss and that has truly been the greatest blessing.

Always,

Courtney