I always knew I would start a blog someday. Fun themes like, navigating life with three daughters under 3 years old. I had dreams of including cute photos of my girls as they grow up, fun recipes for busy moms, tips on gardening, journaling, maybe home renos or marriage.

But not this.

Anything but this.

One of the main reasons I decided to start this blog is to allow people to get a glimpse of what this journey looks like. Sure, I have continued with the InstaStories and random Facebook posts, but those are the equivalent of a brave smile on a drowning soul. So I apologize if this post, and the ones following are a little hopeless. I just want to be honest.

Real Feelings

A few weeks ago I wrote out the events that took place the morning we found Eden, no longer breathing. I knew those memories would become foggy over time so I wrote down every detail. Here is an excerpt of what I felt after Nathan and I we were told… “there is nothing more we can do.” (Buckle up)

I wrapped her body up in a muslin blanket and took her to the rocking chair and rocked with her. “Mommy is here” I repeated over and over again. “Mommy loves you”. I played with her fuzzy little hairs on the top of her head with my lips as we continued rocking. I buried my nose in her neck folds desperate to retain her scent. She always had a gross milky smell caught up in there, mixed with the smell of baby powder. I inhaled her scent like it was my life source. Reality hit me like the weight of the world on my chest, and I wailed like a wounded animal in agony. The pain is profound. There are no words in my vocabulary that do it justice.

Shame overwhelmed me.

I failed.

I wasn’t good enough.

She deserved a better mother.

I don’t deserve my children.

I don’t deserve to live.

Every insecurity I ever had, was exposed. My fears of inadequacy, confirmed.

Feel vs Believe 

Let me explain that I am very aware of the difference between what I feel and what I believe. What I feel is an emotion that is fleeting, often toxic, but feels very real in the moment. I will often say things in my head like… “I am an awful mother, I didn’t deserve Eden” (I cannot even type that without crying), and I really feel the weight of that thought, but I don’t believe in my heart. Inner dialogue is so powerful, and mine is mean. So what do I believe about myself?

Failure

I hear the word failure in my head over and over again. My emotional brain (for me, the dominant part of my brain), wallows in that thought. My logical brain tells me not to believe it.

So, am I a failure?

Do I allow this traumatic experience to rob me of my confidence as a mother? All the sleepless nights, rocking and shh-shh-shhing, diapers and cooking and cleaning and playing and reading and teaching and singing. Sacrificing my body, my time, my independence, my freedom, my whole life invested into these 3 little girls. Are all my efforts meaningless because of one fateful moment that took away my baby?

I go back and forth on this one multiple times a day.

Logic says, “Of course not!!!”

Emotions say, “The proof is in the pudding, only 2/3 of my children remain.”

It’s funny how I would never dream of saying something so cruel and irrational to anyone but myself. Why do we allow such destructive self-dialogue?

Credibility

In the midst of inescapable mom talk, I found myself feeling insecure. A friend was explaining her research on essential oils, and her conclusion to not use peppermint on children under 6 years old. Never being one to back down from a healthy debate, I was about to interject. I had been diffusing an “immune blend” of essential oils for my girls since 6 months, which has peppermint! I suddenly hit a brick wall of insecurity and fear of judgement. I should have prefaced this paragraph with the fact that these women would NEVER judge me or think little of my parenting. But in that moment my brain told me this; “Don’t tell them that!! They will know what an awful mom you are, and how you overlook certain cautions! If I tell them I used peppermint with my girls periodically, they will think, Well no wonder one of your babies didn’t make it!!”

Again, they would NEVER think that about me, but that’s how I felt. And since then I have held my tongue when I would confidently speak my mind. In conclusion, I feel like I have lost ALL credibility as a mother.

The root of this insecurity? Failure.

I really am trying hard to redirect this thought. Feeling like a failure is damaging my spirit. There must be better words. Truer words.

4 E’s

Everyone has been saying to us, “there are no words”. Well, sadly there are words. Lots of them! Unfortunately they are just crappy ones. In the past when I have gone through something difficult I try to put an accurate describing word to explain exactly how I am feeling in that moment. It helps me acknowledge the feeling, honor it, and then do something about it. Half the healing comes from the validation I get by just acknowledging it. I have put a lot of thought into this and it has led me to the following Four E’s after losing Eden.

• Exhausted
• Empty
• Exposed
• Embarrassed

There they are, the 4 pillars of Brittany’s grief.

Lets unpack the first two.

Exhaustion

If you are a parent, you know how on the best of days, life is sheer exhaustion. With 3 kids under 3 years old (all 3 still in diapers) I thought I had explored all angles of fatigue. I was unaware that both mental and spiritual exhaustion trumps physical exhaustion…every time. My soul is tired. Luckily I know where to go to let my soul rest, it’s just difficult to navigate throughout the fog.

My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from Him. He alone is my rock and my fortress, I will never be shaken.

Psalms 62:2-4

With exhaustion come limited patience…like, zero. I have become a mom who yells. I always felt like yelling, but I typically kept my cool. Now, at the first act of disobedience it’s game over. I lose my mind. Did I mention I am potty training 2 toddlers in the midst of unrelenting waves of sorrow?!? The world didn’t stop. The needs of my girls didn’t stop. Everyone else’s world seems to continue as normal. It is just Nathan and I who seem to be stuck in time. My brain remains frozen in that moment, rocking Eden’s earthly body in the rocking chair, wondering “What the F#&% just happened!!??”

Empty

Nathan brought this photo to my attention last week. This sculpture is called Melencholie. It was created by Albert György and can be found in Geneva Switzerland. The imagery is haunting. A fellow bereaved parent, John Maddox wrote this about the sculpture:

“We may look as if we carry on with our lives as before. We may even have times of joy and happiness. Everything may seem “normal” but THIS, “Emptiness” is how we feel…all the time.”

There will forever be an Eden-shaped hole in my heart. Never being one to look on the bright side, I have found something surprisingly hopeful in this emptiness.

Bear with me while I try to make sense of my suffering through scripture.

Simply put, as Christians we are striving to be like Christ.

Now please read the following slowly, and understand it. Philippians 2 says:

Think about what we have in Christ: the encouragement he has brought us, the comfort of his love, our sharing in his Spirit, and the mercy and kindness he has shown us. If you enjoy these blessings,² then do what will make my joy complete: Agree with each other, and show your love for each other. Be united in your goals and in the way you think. ³ In whatever you do, don’t let selfishness or pride be your guide. Be humble, and honor others more than yourselves. ⁴ Don’t be interested in only your own life, but care about the lives of others too.⁵ In your life together, think the way Christ Jesus thought.⁶He was like God in every way, but he did not think that his being equal with God was something to use for his own benefit.⁷ Instead, he emptied himself, even his place with God. He accepted the role of a servant, appearing in human form. During his life as a man,⁸ he humbled himself by being fully obedient to God when that caused his death— even death on a cross. (Easy to Read Version)

The Son of God humbled himself in becoming man, He did that willingly. I didn’t lose Eden willingly. I am still fighting this reality everyday. But if I am called to be like Christ, can follow suite when I find myself likewise, humbled and emptied. Paul says “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you through his poverty might become rich.” (II Corinthians 8:9)

My prayer is that through my poverty (loss of Eden) you and I might become rich. Rich in Love, rich in Faith and ultimately inherit the kingdom as HIS child.