Greif at 6 months

IMG_0158 (1).jpgToday Enoch would be six months old.  I keep thinking, “I should have a six month old.”  I don’t.  That’s hard…  six months later it’s still devastatingly hard.

At this point most people have moved on and have expected me to as well.  If I’m honest, I assumed I would be further along in grief as well.  Not that I would be “over it.” I can’t imagine my heart will ever stop desperately wanting to see or hold my son again.  That will always be there.

I assumed I would be functioning at full capacity again in six months.  I’m not. In addition, grief brain causes me to see all parts of life through the lens of grief.  When your baby dies there’s a whole new perspective, every day, all the time.

  • I still regularly write and think, “my baby died.”
  • When I see a little baby, I still can’t help but think “that’s what a living baby looks like.”
  • My brain can’t seem to hold multiple things in it at one time, as it once did.
  • There are days I still take off work because the grief takes over, and there is no point in attempting to be productive.
  • I’m constantly on guard with movies because picking one that isn’t all about family or doesn’t have the loss of a baby/child in it is much more difficult than you would expect.
  • I still sleep with a pair of his pants on my night stand or in bed with me, even though I know he would have outgrown them by now.
  • Monday’s are hard because as I write my to do list, so many things seem meaningless.
  • I still don’t get into petty arguments with people because in the grand scheme of things, they don’t matter.

Six months later it’s still all at the surface.  Yes, the breathtakingly hard days are further in between one another, but pretty much every activity is looked at through the lens of Enoch dying.



  1. You could have taken those words you wrote straight from my heart, your absolutely right about how you see everything from the babies death. After mckayla died, after the crazy floor stay, the Dr said i had ADD. I said I didn’t it was a death bubble. After 15yrs, I continue to pop that bubble when my family says you seem like your in a fog, we talk to you sometimes and your far away and don’t even know were in the room. You have other children, get over it. She died on a Friday, before Christmas. There out of the blue ill wake on a Friday morning, cry all day. That is how powerful the love between a mother and child. Sleeping babies look dead to me. My arms still ache. I love babies but even now when I hold a baby, I want to go in a room alone and cry and for a moment pretend its her. I will feel the tears well up, my breast will tingle, I have a large lump in my throat. I pray one day soon I can find away to help others. But honestly I can’t think of how. Because there is nothing to say. You can’t be blunt and say , it will barely get better. They say it takes 10yrs after a child dies to accept the new normal. I still don’t like my new normal. People say the miss the old me. I have no response that isn’t really hateful. This is a club I never wanted to join. All my love and healing to you and all who have suffered this loss.


    1. I thought of you so often today. I prayed throughout the day for comfort and shalom to cover you & Tim. These milestone months are extra hard.

      My experience is that it doesn’t get better, you just learn how to function within it. I realized around the 13 or 14 month that I wanted to “live” instead of just “survive.” That mental shift made a lot of difference in my journey, but it’s still a fog, still unreal, still so heavy… even at 18 months.

      Aaron deals with it much differently. The weight sits on him differently. The 4 of us need to get together soon. We pray for you so often.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I pray for you daily Noelle, I am so sorry for your pain. I want you to know that you have changed my life and how I want to serve Jesus. I find myself writing Palms up on my wrist as a reminder to give those tough times to God and that everything is a Gift! I just wanted to say thank you for sharing your story and for your bravery in writing this blog.

    Liked by 1 person

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