Grieving is different for everyone; no one does it exactly the same. There is no right or wrong way; there is just your own way. My way looks different almost everyday, and I’m certain some days are more productive than others. Occasionally though, I get stuck in a loop that I know won’t get me anywhere. I do it anyway. It goes like this:

I never heard my baby cry.

My son never opened his eyes.

My baby never nursed.

Our son never grabbed our fingers with his little hand.

My baby never made a dirty diaper.

Our baby never kept us up at night.

My son never wore a single thing I bought for him.

I never got to swaddle my baby.

Our baby was born at home, but never came home.

It goes on and on and on. It’s awful.

On Joel’s last day my mom and sisters and I told Joel a bunch of good nevers – you’ll never be put in time out, you’ll never be bullied, you’ll never have to eat brussell sprouts, you’ll never be sad. We smiled and laughed and told him how great heaven is, and how we were glad he would never know the struggles of this earth. That is all true, but so are the other nevers.