Why I blog/Capture Your Grief.

I don't know why I'm still up - my first day back at work starts in less than seven hours, and I need to be up in like, five hours. I need to get to bed.

Anyway. I've had some people ask me over the last six weeks why I'm blogging about my loss. I think a lot of people are surprised that I'm so willing to share my thoughts and feelings on losing Devon; I've gotten a lot of "I'd be curled up in bed, never wanting to face the world again" type of responses.

Well, that's the way I feel a lot of the time. I just want to curl up in bed, shut the world out and forget this ever happened. But I can't - and I won't. Just because Devon isn't my Earth baby doesn't mean he's still not my son. I was pregnant, he was alive, and he's gone. I can't take any of that back, and I wouldn't want to; I want his memory, and the impact his short time on Earth had on me, to live forever. I'm not ashamed of him or want to toss him to the wind, because he's my son. He'll always be my son.

My hope is that someone comes across this blog, reads my story and finds comfort, just like I've found comfort from connecting with other women who have gone through what I'm going through. Before I lost Devon, I only knew women who had miscarriages. After I lost Devon, I've talked to several women who have had late losses like mine; the Loss board on The Bump has been a great resource as well. I've come across several blogs where women have shared their stories of heartache and loss, and it was comforting to me to read what I was feeling -- anger, immeasurable pain, guilt, and everything in between. I hope this blog can do that for someone one day, can let someone else know that she [or even he, if the reader is the father dealing with a loss] is not alone. That yes, it hurts like hell, and it probably will for a long time; but as the days go on, the pain does fade. The days do get better.

I'm six weeks out from losing Devon, and I can't believe how far I've come. Yes, I still have my very hard moments, and there's really only been one day that I haven't cried [which was the day after my due date, my last blog post]. But I'm starting to feel better and alive again. I'm starting to be OK with being out around other people, although seeing pregnant women and newborn babies is still very hard for me. I feel like the pain is starting to fade just a little bit, enough to allow me to get back to life and find some joys again. Six weeks ago, I never thought I'd feel happiness again; now, I'm starting to feel that, and I think Devon would want that.

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, something that will always be dear to my heart. In my smaller town, I don't think there's any sort of support group or commemorative event to honor this, so I'm doing something online. A blogger created an event called Capture Your Grief, 31 days of prompts designed to help those who have experienced one of the worst losses imaginable...well, remember that sweet little angel. I plan to participate in all 31 days in honor of Devon. Some days, I'll post pictures on Facebook and Instagram. Other days, I'll blog. It will be personal and hit home for me, but I want to share this. I want to share my memories of Devon and how he impacted my life, even if I only had him for a short time.

Capture Your Grief is also a way to raise awareness about this type of loss. I know a lot of people have no idea what to say to me when they see me or hear that I've experienced this, but this is what I want everyone to know: No. I'm not OK. My heart still hurts, and days are still hard. But I'm getting better, and I just want to move forward as normally as possible. I'm OK sharing my story and answering questions [to some extent] about things, because Devon is still my son. He will always be my son, and I will always love him and remember him. I do appreciate the sympathy and the loads of love I've received, but I am ready to move forward and am taking things one day at a time. No need to walk on eggshells around me; I will cry, and I will laugh, and I will have good and bad days. That all comes with something like this, because I'm still human. I may have a little piece of my heart missing, but I'm still human. And I still want normalcy.

Watch for my posts and pictures about Capture Your Grief. This month is for you, my sweet baby boy.