The waves and stages of grief

We may never know what happened and I'm trying to make peace with that.

"This was an abnormal pregnancy."

"It's nothing you did. This isn't something you could have prevented."

"I saw what might be a couple small tumors."

"It's possible there was a molar pregnancy."

"I'll be doing a suction D&C to reduce the possibility of scarring on your uterus."

"We might not get any answers."

Everything happens with purpose

There are times when I feel like I've failed.

This failure, though, is not a Mommy Fail or even from the "I didn't bother to vacuum and the dog is shedding" aspect of my life.

This is about failing to listen to instinct, pushing aside the nagging sixth sense and then wondering why the hell I did because it's made it harder to handle the punch to the gut reaction when the bad news filters in. It's also about knowing there's nothing I could have done, because when your time here is up and you've been called home, the only thing left to do is pray you arrive safely where you're supposed to go and are held tightly until your soul is selected to come back here again. I guess, in all, the failure to listen is also the success of accepting those things I cannot change. But it still hurts.

Let me just speak plainly, the way you all have come to know I will: It fucking sucks.

I talked quite some time ago about getting these "feelings" and my whole breakdown with hearing people talking and not seeing anyone ... or seeing people walk past the doors and windows in my house and there being no one there.

It's OK to cry in front of them

I had an emotional breakdown today in front of my 3-year-old and it's OK.

Mommy cries sometimes. And the holidays are hard. Being a big kid, an adult, is hard, I told her.

And I wept while hanging onto her youthfulness, shrouded in the shadows of our upstairs hallway.

"It's OK, Mommy."

It is hard, and despite how much I adore the season, every year for the last seven Christmases (this would be the eighth) I've found myself feeling sad. And three years ago that sadness turned to an emptiness.

First, when my grandma, Nana, passed away in 2006 it was difficult to get through the holidays, but making her Rum Cake recipe in her kitchen with my then boyfriend helped me through it. It made it bearable to mix and bake and taste and drink and love because I was doing it in her home. And the years after that just got ... easier.