One Year Ago, Today

The best way to describe this date – October 6 – is like a scheduled, impending car crash.  I know it’s coming because I’ve seen it on the calendar.  I know what it means to me, because I was there.  But I don’t know if it’s an impending fender bender car crash or if there is going to be  broken glass and twisted metal everywhere.  This is my first time here, visiting the one-year mark of losing my son after severe complications in my pregnancy.  I was 24 weeks along – 6 months big with nothing but total faith that of course he’d be here soon, until of course, he couldn’t be.  One year ago today, I said goodbye to him, with his name and imagined face in my heart, and it was the most awful day of my life.

It’s a time I don’t hesitate to visit when I need to, but never really in depth.  I haven’t been able to go back and read my entries from that time.  I haven’t dared read the comments from my readers who dug in deep with me during that time.  Today I woke up and thought it could be just like any other day, really – that maybe it wasn’t going to rock me.  Because I’ve been able to get to a new place, with new hopes and such.  And breakfast was great and normal, walking Roan to school was beautiful with the gorgeous fall morning, talking to my neighbors and friends was you know – normal.  Nothing different than yesterday.

And I wanted to write about something funny today, some of the things that have made me laugh with the full force of my very full belly.  But as I opened up Pistols + Popcorn, I found myself revisiting my old posts from last year, and reading every single comment from every single person who walked me through it.  And I realized that this baby boy who was lost to me lived through these writings, with all these people in the world witnessing and honoring his short short life.  And I understood that I owed it to him to feel his loss today.

I am so grateful for the happiness I have in my life now, with all the new hopes and new plans and new circumstances.  I am so sad for the hard circumstances I have seen people around me struggling with.  I have friends and acquaintances who are in the fight of their lives right now.  And all I can say is that these terrible days, they rock you to your core.  But there is an end to the devastation, and a beginning of the healing that inevitably happens.  And the car crashes you see coming your way?  Unavoidable.  But, for me at least, there’s something sweet about how simple love, support and friendship seem to be the magical spell we need to get through even the worst of times.

17 thoughts on “One Year Ago, Today

  1. Thanks for being willing to ‘go there’ and visit the pain and joy that came out of that life event.
    I needed a good cry today, and this was just the post to set me off.
    I will be revisiting my son’s death till the day I die, I’m certain of this.
    The memories, emotions, reactions are always different and changing, but I feel like I honor life, death, and my son when I take the time to ‘go there’.
    So thanks beautiful friend.
    My heart goes out to you today.

  2. It doesn’t seem like that long ago. I remember reading every day, wishing for something to change for you, but it just didn’t. And that seems to be the way life is, sometimes. One year ago you were in such a hard spot, and now it seems that you’re on top of the world. That is a testament to you, and your willingness to keep finding ways to go on with your life. Thank you for sharing this with your readers today. We remember him, too.

  3. Blessings be to the boy that was, and to the boy that is, and to the boys that are soon to be. And to you and Anson, too.

    You had too short a time to mother him, just 24 weeks, none of them with him in your arms, but he is your son and you are his mother, and that is unchangeable, and perhaps a small comfort. I will think of him today.

  4. Thank you for sharing so deeply. I am going to pass this on…. and may God bless you richly with the arrival of your twins.

  5. LeLaLu – You were and always have been one of the greatest sources of comfort to me. I’m sad we share this bond – though I could never compare my loss to yours. But you have been a caring and compassionate guide for me. You have no idea how much your love helped me. Still helps me.

    Donna – it astounds me the way strangers connected with me through this, and how their support helped me. Thanks for being there then, and now.

    B.Reno – I’m truly and honestly honored that you keep up with me and the stories of my life. Thanks for that.

    Gillian – So beautifully said. Thank you, so so much.

    Angie – So nice to hear from you – thank you. And congratulations on your beautiful son as well!

  6. It’s been 33 years and every year on March 15 I think about the daughter who didn’t get a chance. As each year passes you will mark the date and wonder what he would have been like, and love him just the same.

  7. oh jodi. once again you demonstrate courage and strength and your beautiful heart. thank you.

  8. I hated that time. Such darkness.

    I guess if anything, it makes today’s brightness seem even brighter and the sweetness of now almost unbearably sweet.

  9. i am thinking of you and thank you for sharing as its a bad a loss as one can have and no mother should have to endure.

  10. It truly takes an amazingly strong person to accept what you’ve lost and be grateful for what’s about to be. You are an inspiration Jodi. Wishing you the best.

  11. Oh, what a beautiful tribute to a terrible time. I have always said you are my blog hero and this is why. You are honest and bold and brave and loving with a writer’s gift and a mother’s heart. You always look at the glass half full with beautiful words and hopeful eyes even in the most difficult and devastating circumstances. But one of your greatest talents, a talent that is on full display in your writing and your words, is when the sun is shining on you and your wonderful family you make sure the light hits those around you as well. You amaze me.


    The Biter

  12. Jodi,

    Thank you for the beautiful vulnerability you’ve shown all of us in the last year. My own sister and sister-in-law have lost babies to miscarriages in the last few months, and I’ve found it a privilege to be brought into their hearts as we have mourned together. The same goes for you. My heart aches for you and your family, but I celebrate with you the hope and comfort you have found.

    God bless from a stranger.

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