Grief again...

I've neglected this space. No, maybe I've just reserved this space for the deep down thoughts, when they reach the surface.

My friend who was instrumental in so many ways to helping me through that awful year died of cancer this month. I can't think about him without also thinking about all the times he let me just cry and feel and scream. He understood in a way no one I've met in person has. He was there for me, when my husband wasn't. Not because he didn't want to be, but because he grieved very differently. He was unbelievably kind to me. He has passed and I will miss him deeply.

This Saturday I went in and had time erased. My flabby, saggy belly, of which no exercises in the world have been able to get rid of, is now permanently gone. I had lost all the weight of all my pregnancies but the belly remained, until now. Last night, 24hours after my surgery, I took the bandages off briefly and saw my pre-child belly. I felt guilty. I have erased some of the only evidence that remained of carrying my daughter. See, evidence is very important when a child dies before birth. Otherwise it may be hard to conceive she ever existed at all. Beyond the guilt, I am feeling hopeful. I have wanted this for a very long time and I am ready to move on. I can be content that she lives on in my heart and no longer feeling like I have to explain my sagginess in terms of 3 children, when all people see is two.

We are approaching 4 years. Time has healed and scarred. I feel the ebb of time as both something dreadfully heavy, but also something that washes away, leaving one feeling lighter...

Season of Joy, Season of Grief

Although this year is a little more merrier,
my heart quickens a little with excitement,
feels a little fuller,
there is still a beautiful girl missing.

Her ornaments hang on the tree,
one with her footprint to remind us she WAS,
while her mama daydreams
about a little blond girl with pigtails,
3 years old,
dressing up in her Christmas dress to see the nutcracker
opening presents with her brothers on Christmas morn.

My heart which has grown at least two sizes this year
still aches, still breaks a little.
I shed a Christmas tear for my joy
I shed a Christmas tear for my sorrow
A season of dichotomy

Jessica's Garden

Jessica's garden is in bloom. 3 years later, here's what it looks like

need some feedback...

I know many of you are actual writers and I am not.
I am in the process of writing drafts for my nursing application 'goal statement' and need some feedback.
So if you don't mind reading my story and giving me feedback, send me your email address and I'll email you a copy.

I would appreciate any help you gals could give me.