Song: If No One Will Listen
​Artist: Kelly Clarkson

I know that I'm fortunate in a lot of ways. One of those ways is that I've never struggled to feel heard after Ryan died. I had and found a pretty incredible support system of listeners. People always willing to sit and talk and listen whenever I needed to say something, to talk about him. And when I couldn't talk about him, and I took to writing, I found just as many people willing to read and write me back saying that they heard me. Sometimes all I get back is a "like" or an emoji. Usually a heart. But it lets me know I've been heard. That the words I write, or say, the things I'm feeling are not going unheard. I'm lucky for that. But on my journey I've met more than a few women who haven't felt heard. Who haven't felt like they're surrounded by listeners. And that has made them afraid to speak of their babies. No one should carry their loss alone, and everyone should feel like they have somewhere to go. Today's song is here to let those women know that I'm willing to listen if they feel like talking. It's also here because no playlist of mine would be complete without a little Kelly. :)

Lyrics:
Maybe no one told you there is strength in your tears
And so you fight to keep from pouring out
But what if you unlock the gate that keeps your secret soul
Do you think that there's enough you might drown?

If no one will listen
If you decide to speak
If no one is left standing after the bombs explode
If no one wants to look at you
For what you really are
I will be here still

No one can take you where you alone must go
There's no telling what you will find there
And, God, I know the fear that eats away at your bones
It's screaming every step, "Just stay here?

If no one will listen
If you decide to speak
If no one is left standing after the bombs explode
If no one wants to look at you
For what you really are
I will be here still

If you find your fists are raw and red from beating yourself down
If your legs have given out under the weight
If you find you've been settling for a world of gray
So you wouldn't have to face down your own hate

If no one will listen
If you decide to speak
If no one is left standing after the bombs explode
If no one wants to look at you
For what you really are
I will be here still​

Today is my website's one year anniversary. I was surprised when I logged on to Facebook this morning and it reminded me of this fact. One year ago today, I published my first piece here. And I can't believe how far it has come since then. It gave me a moment's pause to think about life then, and life now. What this blog meant then, and what it still means today. 

One year ago, as I started writing, I was looking for a place to share my fears, my worries, my hopes, my grief. I was a bereaved mother with aching arms and a deep desire to share my heart with anyone who would listen. I felt I was floundering to find purpose and hope and took to the internet to connect with people who maybe felt the same.

Now, as I continue writing, I strive to share all of those same things, but I'm coming from a different place. Still a bereaved mother, but one with a living baby here in my arms. I'm still seeking to share my heart with anyone who will listen, because one year later, the ache has lessened but a void still exists. I know my purpose now, and I have connected with so many beautiful mamas from all around the world.

So, why do I still write? Yes, because my grief is ever-evolving. And with Brayden's arrival it has deepened and intensified and created a whole bunch of new little nuances that I sometimes need to sort out. But also for a very important reason.

When I started writing, it was because I had read so many other stories from so many other mamas with more experience than I had and it was those stories, those blogs, those mamas, that gave me more hope and courage to move forward every day than I thought possible at the time. I keep writing today, one year later, because I hope to return the favour. I hope to reach new mamas looking for support..

Babyloss hurts, to put it mildly. And it is without a doubt the hardest thing I've ever gone through. Knowing I wasn't alone was the real game-changer for my grieving. 

I have written about it, and will continue writing about it, because nothing has helped me more than talking about our loss. Before Ryan died I knew no one who had lost a baby. Or at least that's what I thought, because no one talked about it. And I didn't know it was okay to talk about it until I just went ahead and did it. I was so afraid of everything babyloss-related. I mean, that's why I only have one photo of Ryan. I didn't know what was normal. In fact, I felt that the whole situation was so NOT normal. I know differently now. I know that babyloss is normal and common, and I know how important it is for people to talk about it and to feel that they CAN talk about it. By opening up about it myself, I invite others to do the same. This creates a discourse, and a way of normalizing this very specific kind of grief. The more people talk about it, the more support there is for people who need it.

So a big thank you to everyone who has supported me in this writing and advocating adventure I've been on this past year. Thank you to those who have read and reached out. And thank you to those who read and hold my words in your heart and in your mind. If anything I've ever written has helped anyone half as much as writing it has helped me then every minute spent writing has been worth it.

​Here's to another year of sharing, connecting, and grieving together.

I love that today the focus is on gratitude. It doesn't seem like that long ago that I had promised myself to focus a bit on what was good in my life. Last November I started writing publicly about my feelings through my own little Gratitude Challenge. It didn't fix anything. But it was helpful to refocus myself. And for a few moments a day at least, I forced myself out of my darkness.

Today I'm not in the same kind of darkness. In fact, I seem to be standing in a lot of light right now. But there is something I'm particularly grateful for these past few days.

I'm so grateful for every person who has acknowledged Ryan since Brayden was born. Whether it was in recognizing or congratulating him as a big brother, or in checking in with me to see how I'm feeling emotionally since bringing Brayden home, that kind of thoughtfulness has gone a long way for me. Because as wonderful and relieving as it's been to have Brayden here, I do sometimes wander into wondering "what if" and wishing he was here. Which is a very complicated thing to wish.

So, thank you to the people who understand the complexity of a rainbow. He is the most beautiful part of my world and I love him with a fierceness I never thought possible, but he just can't erase that storm.