Today is my sweet daughter Celia’s birthday. She would be two years old. I have been struggling with the fact that this anniversary seems to be even more difficult than the 1st. I have been sleeping 12 or more hours a day, binging on sweets, and feeling lonelier than ever. I feel judged by a lot of people, or maybe just by society in general. As if I am supposed to be over it by now, healed. This is a widely held myth.

Grief doesn’t work that way. It’s not linear. In the first year, the shock your body and brain go through produces a sort of an anesthesia that wears off in subsequent years. You begin to see the finality of the situation and that life has transformed and you are living in a totally new way. I have also changed as a person. I have learned to be more grateful for what I have, to ask for and accept more help, and to deal with my emotions in healthier ways. However, I still have huge triggers that bring me crashing down.

Last year I wanted to isolate, but this year I have chosen to share my grief with others and make a plan to celebrate Celia. I am eternally thankful that there are people out there who choose to accept the way I grieve and are able to genuinely empathize. I know that not everyone can do this and it still does anger me when I am judged, brushed aside, ignored. Despite this, I will continue to be honest about my feelings and share my truths.

There is not a single day that I do not think of Celia. And I believe that I will grieve for her for the rest of my life. I did not just lose a baby. I lost a future. I will never know what her personality would be like, I’ll never hear her 1st words, I’ll never feel her arms wrapped around me, I’ll never watch her grow older. I will never stop thinking about her. But I also don’t want to because now I know what the greatest love there is feels like and I only learned this through grief.