Those early grief days were some of the hardest days of my life. I say that as a survivor of child abuse. I say that as a suicide survivor. I say that as a survivor of multiple miscarriages. I say that as a mother who gave birth to a perfect baby girl, forever sleeping.

I had very little support those early days, even less now. It was my husband and a few close friends. People I thought would be there for us, for me, were not. People I had put so much into the relationships for, were not. They did not know how to be. I( do not harbor any ill feelings towards them, just apathy. I no longer put the energy into people that I used to.

Grief is lonely and gets more so as the years pass. No one understands and people assume it is our jobs to make them feel comfortable. They say things like, “I didn’t know what to say, so I haven’t reached out.” Expecting us to ease their guilt. I do not. Their guilt is theirs to deal with, not mine. New friends come into your life but having to explain over and over what happened gets tiring. People do not understand.

Those early days were excruciating. I wanted to die. I had survived child abuse, and two suicide attempts in my teen years. This was so much worse. My baby died before I could ever even see her eyes or hear her laugh. Mothers should not outlive their children. I was in excruciating pain emotionally and physically. My pregnancy with River had left me with pelvic congestion syndrome, varicosities in the uterus.

Those early days were hard and I am so glad I held on.

I asked my doctors for help. For the first time in my life, I was prescribed an antidepressant. I stayed on it for several months. It helped me get through the hardest days, the self-hate. Even though I did everything I was supposed to do during my pregnancy, I still had self-hate. It was my body that failed.

Those early days were hard. I had to find something to ease the pain. I did not want to stay on medication for longer than necessary. I started writing and working out, daily. I pushed my body to limits I did not know were possible because I needed to learn to love myself again.

The first year after River died was the hardest. Holidays are still dreadful, three years later. No one asks how I am. If they do, most do not actually care to hear. Christmas is my third least favorite day of the year. River was stillborn three days prior, the hardest day each year. Mother’s Day is the second most painful day. I am not recognized as a mother by most, even though I am. Not all mothers get to see their children live.

I grieved again after my recent hysterectomy, even though I came to terms with it two years prior. Again, I was not asked how I was doing. Maybe that is my fault, maybe my tough exterior makes people think I do not need the care, but I do. We all do. All any of us wants is to feel cared about, valued. My doctor offered antidepressants again, I declined. This was easy compared to everything else. Positive, no more periods, ever. That thought got me through the six weeks of no exercise, except easy spin class and light yoga. My doctor knows better than to completely ban me from doing anything.

I am here to tell you; the days do get easier. I love my body, now more than I ever did. It has moved me over marathon finish lines. It allows me to help others heal through fitness. I am able to find joy in nature. I see my River everywhere, in everything. Mostly in sunflowers and butterflies.

The days do get easier.

Those early days are the hardest, but it does get easier. I am thirty-two and will never have a living child. I am writing my second book, and third, simultaneously. They differ on length, genre, and style. I am running my first ultramarathon this summer. I am training to be a personal trainer who specializes in running and grief therapy through fitness. I have written a guide to trail running. I am thirty-two and I am embracing life to the fullest. Everything I do is for River.

So if you are struggling, hold on. It will get easier. Ask for help. Find something that makes you smile. It does not take away from your grief. It adds to your love for your child. When you find anything you can be passionate about, it will let you see your child in that passion.

Those early days are hard, but it does get easier. Hold on.

______________________________________

Jenny and her husband Robert live by a river with their two dogs. Their daughter River was born still on December 22nd, 2016. After River, died they decided that life is too short to put off doing what you love. Jenny became a certified fitness professional. It is her hope to someday help grieving mothers through fitness. They both celebrate life for their daughter and take each day as a blessing.

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