You Are My Narrative

Dearest Kennedy Kate,

Just recently I attended a conference on Infant Mental Health for four days.  On a side note, sweet girl, your mama finally found something she is truly interested in to pursue post undergrad and it really makes me happy.  Plus, I have the support of many wonderful people (other than family) who are cheering me on and helping me out through it.  Okay...back to the conference.  So, it is Tuesday of the conference.  Day 3.  I have been overwhelmed by the stories, case studies, history of what mental health at the infant/early childhood level is like.  It shook me to my very core on Monday....almost to the point where I wasn't sure I could go back and do another day.  But nevertheless, Tuesday comes.  And off I go back to Milwaukee for the conference.

Tuesday morning starts off somewhat rocky again with the rollercoaster of emotions taking over until one part of the day.  The part of the day where someone asked about my pin.  The pin I wear in honor of you.  My pink rainbow ribbon pin that a very special friend of your mama's made for me and others like me who live their lives without their babies in their arms.  So, one of new friends asks about my pin and if it has significance.  I explain that it is a remembrance pin for babies who have died through pregnancy, stillbirth or in early infancy.  I then told them about you.  My little girl.  The little girl I lost at 22 weeks.  All three women were a little caught off guard about my story and then quickly apologized and showed empathy.  One of them even said that if things ever became too difficult during this program (specifically when we talk about pregnancy), she wanted to let me know that she was here to support me.  I appreciated the comfort talking about you gave me and how I was able to share your story so early on in my relationship with these new people.

As the day moved on, I thought about how quickly I had shared my story of you, especially with people I had only known for about 2 days.  Yet, it came so easily, Kennedy.  It just felt like another story of my life.  Like I was talking about a trip I had taken.  Typically, I hate thinking how rote it becomes for me to tell the story of your life.  Because it shouldn't be easy.  But it is.  It's easy because it's my life.  You are my life.  Which leads me into the next part of this blog post.

The nationally recognized speaker (who had rocked me to my very core) was leading a break-out session later on in the day.  My program required all of us "newbies" to sit in on his session.  During his presentation, he shared a story about a man who was from Poland who had been taken in by another family during the Holocaust.  The man (then a boy) lived in a wardrobe type closet for 18 months with only the man, woman and children bringing him food.  Everything was done in this closet.  The boy was never allowed to go out.  After those 18 months, the war must have ended and the little boy was given the opportunity to go off on his own and find other members of his immediate family.  According to the man, this family that he had lived with had saved his life.  Only his life had been quite terrible living in this wardrobe all day/all night for a year.  Can you only imagine?  This boy could have been scarred by the situation.  Actually, he probably was scarred.  And scared.  This was a traumatic event which probably gave him symptoms of PTSD.  Yet, the boy/man was able to move on past the event.  He lived through it and was given the chance to live again.  And he truly lived.  He lived to love and marry.  He lived to have a family of his own.  However, as he indicated in his video interview, this event was his story.  It was his narrative that made him who he was today.  He wished it didn't have to happen the way it did.  But because it did, he lived to tell about it, and eventually live out his life and be happy.

After watching this video and hearing this man's story, the speaker asked us to think about our narrative.  Our story.  A story that has changed us.  Or something that has made us who we are today.  Kennedy, I didn't even have to stop and think about it like others did.  You are my story.  You are the one person in my life who has completely changed it.  What happened to me, I would never wish on anyone else, yet it happened.  I have come to accept it.  And because of you, I am who I am today.  And I am accepting that too.  There are people who have come into my life who I would not have without you, yet I cannot imagine them not in my life now.  And there are people who have disappeared from my life because of you that I don't truly believe belonged in my life at this point anyways.  They played their role in my life, and maybe it's their time to bow out and make room for others.  That's another acceptance.  The other part of my life that I have learned to finally accept is the marriage to your daddy.  Kennedy, for as long as I live, I will never say that the ending of our marriage was due to the loss of you.  However, due to the loss of you, we became different people.  People who grew apart, and, unfortunately, were never able to find ourselves back to each other.  However, as I indicated before, special people have come into my life since then that have shown me how to be happy again.  And maybe even love again.

The story of you and your role in my life has impacted me more in the past three years than anything else in the last 30.  I cannot imagine my life without you in it.  You may not be here, but everything I do, I have you in my heart and mind.  You are never far away.  I truly believe I am a better, more thoughtful, stronger person because of you.  I think I am starting to find my place in the world again....or maybe just for the first time.  As I have posted before, there are parts/events of my life before your impact that are blurry.  I am forgetting that life.  And I am "ok" with that.  I cannot go back to that life, so why bother worrying about what it was like, who I was with, etc.  If those people and events are part of my life now, then that is the way it is meant to be.  If not, so be it.  I cannot change who I am.  I cannot change what has happened.  You are my narrative.  You are the story I want to share.  Kennedy, you will always be the missing piece to my puzzle, yet you are also the piece that I always want to miss because I don't want the complete puzzle without you being a part of it.

One of the quotes, the speaker at my conference brought up was similar to the one I am posting below.  "It is your REACTION to ADVERSITY, not the adversity itself, that DETERMINES how your LIFE'S STORY will develop, " quoted by Dieter F. Uchtdorf.  He brought this up when telling the story of the man from Poland and after we talked about our narratives.  It really is about how you react.  And in various circumstances, we react differently depending on who we are.  The loss of you, sweet girl, was my most traumatic adversity.  And, at times, my reactions were all over the place, which, in turn has caused other events to occur.  But, I believe my reaction to it now, is leading me down a path that I am comfortable with.  Maybe that is the path of acceptance.  It might also be the path of happiness.
 

Thank you, Kennedy, for being my narrative....a vital part of my story.  You brought me to the place in my life where I am now.  The clouds have parted.  I am breathing easier.  I see bluer skies.  Sunshine.  Sure, the tough days are there brought on by triggers that are completely out of my control.  But those are also a part of my life now too.  Those triggers are there because of that missing puzzle piece.  You.  And I wouldn't have it any other way.  My daughther, you are the most precious gift I have ever been given.  That is why you are my narrative.  The gift of your life will always have an effect on my life, and for that, I am truly blessed.

Love you always, baby of mine.
XOXO,
Mommy

On the Twelfth Day of 25 Days of Giveaways....

Hello, for the first time or the 50th time, either way, welcome and thank you for visiting "On KK's Butterfly Wings" and taking part in the 25 Days of Giveaways that was started by the beautiful Tina over at "Living without Sophia and Ellie." Last year was the first Christmas that I joined in on this wonderful event, and not only did it give me joy by winning but also by providing some joy to others.  I am honored to be part of it all again...and hope that it helps someone out there remember and honor the life/lives of the beautiful baby/ies he/she is missing.  

Just a little bit about my story....this is my 3rd Christmas without my firstborn and only daughter, sweet Kennedy Kate.  Kennedy became her very own angel after only 22 weeks gestation.  However, about a month after we lost her, we found out she had passed away due to complications with Turner's Syndrome.  Kennedy had fought long and hard to be with me as long as she could, but eventually, her little heart stopped developing.  Even as I sit here today, a little over two years removed from that day when we found out she was gone, I cannot believe it happened.  However, the one thing that always gives me some peace is knowing that she has a purpose.  That her life had purpose...and not just to me, but to many others.  Kennedy's life continues to educate others about miscarriage, stillbirth, compassion, empathy and grief.  Yet her life also teaches others to never take anything for granted and rejoice in the many blessings that you have been offered.  Kennedy is currently the greatest and best gift I have ever received.  I thank God everyday for giving me the opportunity to be her mother.  

Anyways, on to the giveaway.  As the title says... "On the twelfth day of 25 Days of Giveaways, I am offering you the opportunity to win a $40 gift certificate to Metal Stamped Memories.  This gift certificate is good towards any of the the beautiful aluminum pieces that the talented mother of Carter, Michaela, creates.  The lovely Michaela made a necklace for my giveaway last year and this year donated the gift certificate for the event.  Michaela is a lovely local Wisconsin woman who I met about a year ago at a walk called, "Miles of Hope."  After meeting her, I was able to purchase one of her necklaces that she specifically designed for that walk/run.  That necklace was one of the first pieces I bought in honor of Kennedy.  Since then, my collection of jewelry pieces has just taken off.  This includes the piece that I offered last year for the giveaway.

However, this is only one of the options that Michaela designs for mothers like me and you.  She has many more.  Here is another one of my new favorites of hers, "My love will fly to you each night on angel's wings."  There are ways that you can personalize and make it your own...Michaela is always very accommodating.  She knows and understands what it is like to go through a loss and how important it is for each of us to find ways to remember and honor our children.  

I cannot thank Michaela enough for donating such a wonderful and thoughtful gift.  I am privileged to know her and call her my friend.  I encourage every one of you to check out her shops either on her website, Etsy or Facebook.  She is absolutely amazing! :)

Okay, now on to how you can enter this incredible giveaway.  For one entry, please comment below on who you are missing this Christmas.  For a second entry, please check out and like Metal Stamped Memories Facebook page and then come back here and let me know.  For a third entry, please visit Metal Stamped Memories website  and return here to tell me your favorite piece of jewelry or keepsake.  Giveaway for Day 12 will close December 13th at 10:00 PM CST.  Winners will be announced on December 14th.  

Thank you again for visiting...sending lots of love to you all during this holiday season.  May the love of your angels always grace you with peace and joy in your hearts.  ((hugs))

Who would have "thunk" it?!!

Today marks a big day in my life....a day that I truly never thought would come. A day that wouldn't have come had Kennedy not been a part of my life. It could be viewed as a joyous event...yet sad given the reason behind it. But it's still an anniversary no matter how you look at it. It's been a year. One year since I started this blog. 92 posts and 120 followers later....and I'm still here. I'm still writing. I'm still reading. I'm still commenting. I'm still grieving.

I never, ever would have thought in a million years that I would become a part of the blogging community. But then again, I never thought I would become a part of the baby loss community. When I sat down to write 365 days ago, I did not know what my intentions would be. All I knew is that I wanted to write. I wanted to share what I was feeling somewhere. I didn't know who would read or what comments would come out of it. But I knew it was something I had to do....just like support group or grief counseling was something I had to do. Since then, I have shared more here than I have shared with many that have been part of my "real life" for the past 29 years. This has been my sanctuary. My place to just pour my heart out and know it's okay. It's been my place to grieve for my little girl and to not be judged that it's time to "move on." I have been given affirmation of "no timeline," "no expectations," and "no judgment." I have been supported and loved. I am viewed as a mother.

My beautiful daughter, Kennedy, has been remembered. She has been thought of, prayed for, and celebrated. When her name is said or seen she is recognized as a human life. A little girl. A daughter. A child. I cannot begin to thank you enough for that. As I wrote to a fellow BLM a few days ago, just the thought of someone saying her name or thinking of her, means more to me than any gift or prize. My daughter is "realer" to me when I can share her with all of you.

I am amazed at what you all have given me. Without this blog, I wouldn't have been motivated to start my own Face2Face social group. Or be in the process of starting "A Walk to Remember" in Madison in October. I wouldn't have people who live "literally" all over the world who I would call my friends. Friends who I feel closer to than some of my "IRL" friends that I have had for years. It has been a year of growth. A year of progress. A year of change. And a year of hope. Thank you for your friendship, your tears, your words, and your hope. I am who I am today because of Kennedy. But I am also who I am today because of you.

I would really like to do a giveaway of some sort in honor of this day...but since it has kind of caught me off guard, I'm not ready to do so just yet. Please check back throughout this week as I gather my thoughts to think of an appropriate giveaway given the celebration. Sending much love and hugs to you all always....

Alissa

She just doesn't "get it."

My plan for this post was totally different....I had other ideas in mind. And then I was shaken up by a Facebook message. A message that I awoke to this morning on a day with the sun shining and Earth finally looking a little friendlier in Wisconsin. I thought today would be a good day, and I still believe it could be. Just gotta get this off my chest first. I think?!

My message came from a really close friend of mine from college. A friend who I consider one of my best friends. A friend who I thought "got it." Let's call this friend "K" for anonymity purposes. K lives in Wisconsin, but is a little too far away that we don't regularly see a lot of each other. K is one of those friends that early on after the loss of Kennedy, she would regularly email or send cards just checking in on me. She would always say, "When you are ready, let's get together." So, we finally were able to meet up in June or July of last year. I think I was probably ready before that, but time just got away from us. K and I had dinner that night in a nice restaurant that allowed us to just talk and catch up on everything. She wanted to know everything related to Kennedy. And I felt very comfortable talking to her about it. We were even then able to discuss how things were in my marriage with K's father. She could see the pain in my eyes as I discussed both things....and really listened to me. I left that dinner truly believing that she "got it." That she understood how my heart was still breaking from the loss, the possible break-up of my marriage, etc. There was never a question in my mind.

Then, I saw K last September. Right around the time that I had decided to move out. She even had found a butterfly coaster that she had specifically purchased in memory of Kennedy. What an amazing friend! Again, K and I found time during the wedding reception that we were at to walk around and talk about life and how things were going. She was such a good listener and made me feel so comfortable to share all of my innermost feelings. I, again, left that night feeling secure in my friendship with her and knowing that she was on "my side." The side that supported what I was feeling and everything I was going through.

Which leads us to the present...well, kind of. K got pregnant in early October. She announced it right away....and was extremely excited about this event in her life. As she rightfully should be. And I was honestly excited for her. Yes, maybe a little jealous too, but truly excited and happy for her. K right away started sharing emails with me about her pregnancy....ultrasounds, doctors appointments, etc. I wasn't entirely sure I was ready for these emails, but I read them, and often would respond back. They were very difficult to read at times...but I wanted to be a good friend to her and show her that I could be supportive of her too. After all, this was the friend who had been there and showed me her support during some of my most difficult times. However, I realized that I would often talk to other babyloss moms or my grief counselor about these emails. I could see that they were harder on me than I thought. So, I think I stopped responding eventually, maybe right around the time that K found out her baby was a little girl. I remembered how I cried the night I found out. Again, not because I wasn't happy for her, but because I was missing my little girl.

I know that many new moms get into this "pregnancy bliss" time. Although, I'm not sure I was ever really there given the constant sickness I experienced throughout the entire time I carried Kennedy, I know that it's a little bit naivety that plays a role. This was the friend who was on the phone with me, 10 weeks pregnant, and was telling me how her husband had just put up the crib. She was excited...living the life of pure bliss....ready for this next step in her life....ready for her dreams to come true. How could I rain on that parade? The friend who had lost her baby girl 12 weeks from where she was. So, I joined right in. Talking about baby stuff, how she was feeling, etc. I genuinely wanted to know, but there was also a part of me that was putting on a "strong front." Guess it's probably easier to do over email and phone than if she had seen me "in real life." I'm guessing my face would have said it all, but maybe not. Maybe I am growing....

Well, as you have all probably figured out, the shower invite arrived in late February. Right around the time that I was sick and then was grieving for my grandmother. Yep, perfect timing, right?! I knew it would come. I didn't doubt it. Did I kind of dread it? Yes. But I had prepared myself....kind of. The beautiful "pink" note came sharing all of the events of a joyous occasion. An occasion that I knew I would not be able to attend. I knew this in my heart....yet, when K asked me about it in late March, I said that I wasn't sure yet. I believe she took this as a "yes."

Which brings us to this morning and the "message." Just a little lead up to the message, K had sent me an email a couple weeks ago wanting to get together on the 22nd. Unfortunately, I was not able to make that given other set plans for that day. After that email I sent back about a week and a half ago saying I couldn't make the 22nd and was not ready for the shower, I hadn't heard from her. I called her once, sent a couple text messages, etc. I figured something was up. So, finally, I receive a message from her. A message that made me cry. A message that brought up all of these feelings of wanting to move on. Or the desire to return back to the "old Alissa."

In the message, K writes how excited she was to see that I had RSVP'd "yes" (again...mistake). She thought it would be the perfect growing experience for me in taking that next step. She expresses that she cannot pretend to understand what I am feeling, but that she feels she has a better understanding since being pregnant with her daughter. Then, she went into writing about how she feels that I'm missing out on major events in my loved ones lives by not attending showers or meeting babies (in my follow-up email, I told her that I have met and held babies). She fears that if I cannot attend her shower then will I ever be ready to meet her little girl? (again...I have met and held other babies). She ends her message by telling me that I need to face my fears with the support of those around me. She wants to see me move through these rough times and maybe find some light at the end of the tunnel. She mentions that she wants to see me accept that maybe the things that are happening around me are for the better and are meant to be. She doesn't see me doing that right now, and thinks that I'm slipping away.

Sorry, if that was a little rough to follow. In other words, this is the way I took the message this morning, "I'm sad that I cannot be the one to help you through this enough for you to be ready to attend my shower. I wish that you were closer to being ready than you are. I worry that you are dwelling in the past and not realizing that 'everything happens for a reason.'" In many ways, it felt like she truly didn't get it. I know that wasn't her intention....or even to make me feel this way. BUT, it was a major letdown. Because I thought she did get it. I thought K accepted me and supported me no matter what. I thought she would be one of those friends (whom I have already had in my life) that would say, "It's okay if you don't come, but I had to send you an invite anyways." But she wasn't...and it hurts. And maybe it hurts more because I feel like I have been doing so well as of late. Like I'm stronger than I was two weeks ago, a month ago, 6 months ago. I feel like I'm connecting to people I had lost touch with in the last 2 years. I feel like I'm more comfortable talking about Kennedy and then leading into the break-down of my marriage. I do see a light, but then I get this message, and it worries me. It makes me feel as if I'm stuck. I hate that feeling. I'm ready to keep moving through this grief. I ready to find "healthy" ways to remember my daughter by setting up a Memorial Walk, creating a Face2Face group, etc. I felt like I was doing that. But maybe not to the extent that K wants to see...or maybe she's not seeing it since I don't see her or talk to her on a regular basis. Maybe she thinks I'm stuck just because I won't go to shower? I tried to express that in my message back to her, but I'm still worried she might not truly understand. But how can see? She hasn't experienced this. She can't begin to fathom what it feels like as she carries her healthy baby girl. She can try to imagine...but as we all know, it's much worse than you could ever even think.

It just sucks. There is no other way to put it. I think that I had put my heart out there for her to read and understand. And she can't. I get it... It doesn't make it any easier to accept...but I do get it. :(

That's what friends are supposed to do

My obsession with Bruno Mars continues....This time it's related to friendships and how the people in your life should or typically would stick by you through the toughest of times. Wishing this was the case for those of us that have had the misfortune of losing not only a baby but friendships/relationships that we thought would last a lifetime. However, I want it to be known (just in case I someday decide to share this blog with my IRL friends), that THERE ARE people in my life that have been there and continue to be there for me today.

They are the people who continue to make an effort to call despite the lack of callbacks. They are the people who continue to invite me to events despite my lack of accepting the offer. They are the people who reach out just to send an email saying they are thinking of me today. I am blessed to have these kinds of people in my life. They are what I call "true" friends. The friends that will stick by me through the good times and bad. The friends that understand what I need and will respect that of me.

I know that this can be very difficult...and I understand that people really don't know what to do or what to say. But, what's really different about a friend losing a job and just stating that if they need anything, you'll be there for them. And then when you see or talk to that person again, you ask them how things are going. How is that different than our situations? They both seem like difficult topics to talk about. They both have pretty sad endings...but offer hope for new beginnings. Guess it seems easier to me than maybe it really is? But maybe that's what makes our situation so much more difficult than any other form of grief?

We, as baby loss families, have dealt with the worse...and we know how to handle just about anything that comes our way. We understand how to be there for other people who are suffering a similar loss or painful situation. We know what we would want...and what people did for us. Or what people didn't do. It is a lot about the education, I guess. Teaching people what we feel, how we feel, and what they can do to help us feel better. And then having people realize that what we have taught them can pretty much apply to many "heartbreaking" situations. Doesn't really seem fair that this is our job? I know I really don't need to add anything more to my plate. But in honor of my daughter, I feel like I must. It's my duty as her mom to help others understand what my needs are, so that they may truly know what to do if this should ever happen again.

What is key to the education of others is that they must be willing. A person must want to understand. They must care so much about you and value your friendship, that they want to hear about you, your child and how you are dealing with it. Again, I really believe that those are your "true" friends. My "true" friends don't cringe when I bring up my pregnancy. Or Kennedy's name. Her heaven date. Support group. Blog. Etc. They listen. They want to know more. They get excited for me thinking about the idea of a walk in October. Or when I have something new on to honor her. Or they just simply ask "how are you?" with the full intention of wanting to know how I am dealing with the loss of my daughter. And these friends do this because they truly understand what friends are supposed to do.

Count on Me
Bruno Mars

If you ever find yourself stuck in the middle of the sea
I'll sail the world to find you
If you ever find yourself lost in the dark and you can't see
I'll be the light to guide you

Find out what we're made of
When we are called to help our friends in need

You can count on me like one, two, three
I'll be there and I know when I need it
I can count on you like four, three, two
And you'll be there 'cause that's what friends
Are supposed to do, oh yeah, ooh, ooh

If you toss and you turn and you just can't fall asleep
I'll sing a song beside you
And if you ever forget how much you really mean to me
Everyday I will remind you

Find out what we're made of
When we are called to help our friends in need

You can count on me like one, two, three
I'll be there and I know when I need it
I can count on you like four, three, two
And you'll be there 'cause that's what friends
Are supposed to do, oh yeah, ooh, ooh, yeah, yeah

You'll always have my shoulder when you cry
I'll never let go, never say goodbye

You can count on me like one, two, three
I'll be there and I know when I need it
I can count on you like four, three, two
And you'll be there 'cause that's what friends
Are supposed to do, oh yeah, ooh, ooh

You can count on me 'cause I can count on you

Somewhere to belong...

Just recently I started reading Knocked Up, Knocked Down by Monica Murphy LeMoine. I had found Monica's blog early on in my journey and felt a huge connection with the way she was able to write openly and honestly. She had a way of writing that made me feel like we were having a conversation. I didn't actually feel like I was reading someone who actually "knew how to write." She wrote from her heart....and wanted to share exactly the way she felt as to touch others who were going through some of the same emotions. So, in November, a month after Kennedy's heaven date, I finally ordered this book on Amazon. I finally felt like I was ready to read a book from someone who was "real", almost brutally honest in her journey. I have yet to finish the book, but there was a part in the book that hit me like a brick wall....it hit and made me realize how much I connected with this author, yet have almost been afraid to admit it.

In the book, the author experienced pregnancy with two of her best friends. She formed a "Mommy's club" with these two other women and the shared the joys and downfalls of pregnancy. The author writes about how she had imagined the three children growing up together and the everlasting bonds that their families would share. When the author lost her little boy in the last month of pregnancy, she realized how alone she was. How disconnected from Earth she felt. How disconnected she felt from the two women she called her best friends. As the author goes through the first few months of grief and the births of the other babies, she talks about how she isn't sure she can continue to be friends with these ladies but that "being excluded from her little snow-globe world of prego-friends and happiness disappearing, was more than she could bear." When the author visits her friends and their babies, she talks about how "wrong and fake" it feels. She even goes to express that she feels that her "carefully cultivated and much-worshiped relationships are changing beyond her control." As a final statement in her chapter titled Ashes on my Hands, one of her "best" friends comes up to her at her son's memorial service and gives her a hug. The author describes it is as a "goodbye." "Goodbye, friend. Our roads are parting. Catch you on the flip side."

This is a very real feeling for me. I know what it's like to meet someone you totally connect with....and want to share the same journeys with. I have many best friends who are at those stages in their lives. They have been happily married for three to five years and are now ready to add a little bundle of joy to the picture. This is where I thought I was two to three years ago. So, I happily talked about what it would be like to have children at the same time with many of my good friends. And it really was all panning out to be that way (despite the fact that things in life really weren't as good as I wanted them to be--but that's another part of the story). So, there I was pregnant, about 9 months after one of my best friends, 6 weeks ahead another, and nine months ahead of one more. It was all going to work out so perfectly....yet, as you all know, it didn't. And here I stand on the outside. I stand on the outside looking in at friends who continue to get pregnant, have already had their babies, and are even on their way to thinking about having others. I watch as they talk about what their babies are doing, how "magical" Christmas was with them, how glorious pregnancy is, how "easy" the heartbeat is to find, etc. I feel the pain in my heart every time I read the card that says, "Dad's name, Mom's name, and baby." I no longer belong to this club...and my little Snow-Globe no longer exists. It's been eliminated by the fact that my baby isn't here on Earth. So, that's one club that I really don't belong in. Because I'm a mom, but not to a baby here. But I'm also not someone who has never carried a baby, so where do I belong?

Then there is the club of "happily married." I don't belong to this club either... And since I would prefer not to go into great detail about this part of my life yet, I will just say that in late September, I chose to remove myself from a sad and difficult situation and separate from my husband. We have currently been separated for about 4 months now. So, as many of my friends are living their "June and Ward Cleaver" life, I look from the outside there too. I'm not single...but I'm not really married either. So, where do I belong?

As someone who really always felt connected to groups of people....I somehow have ended on the outskirts. The people that I once called "best" friends are losing their role in my life as I am in theirs. It hurts something terrible to have this realization...but it's a very real fact. Until these parts of my life somehow come together again soon, I feel that these friendships and people are going to end up too far away to catch up to or with. But maybe that's the way it's all supposed to be? My Aunt Kathy, from Texas, who has been a huge support for me for the past year and a half, told me over Christmastime that she sees only "big" things for me in the future. She sees Kennedy holding the light out to me....as if to show me what other things in life I can find happiness in. She talked to me about how I have to hold out for that "hope" that things will be okay. That things will work out. And that those people who have been there for me will always be there...even if it might look or feel different. She also made me think about the new people I have met through this journey....and how those friendships are a sign or gift from my beautiful daughter. She wanted me to find people....and feel connected. Kennedy knew that would be important to me.

So, as I find myself continuing to search for somewhere to belong that includes, but is not limited to: a place to call "home"; friends who I feel connected with and loved; a job that always brings a smile to my face; a sense of peace of what my beautiful Kennedy means to my life now; and a way to be happy with someone, I continue to hold out for hope that this "somewhere" is possible. I have to believe that there is a place for me. There is a plan for me. I just don't know what it is just yet. Keep holding out that light, Kennedy. Show me, sweet girl. Show me what this world has in store for me.