Open Arms

McKenna's funeral was the end of one chapter, but still very much the beginning of our story. Ryan, the kids, our families, and I were beginning on a new journey. A journey of grief. A journey in which all of our familiar landmarks were gone, some of our most trusted friends gone, and a cloud around us that made seeing and breathing very difficult. I look back on those days and I wonder how we've come this far. I look back on those days and I see a picture of a broken little family, kids looking to us for guidance, and we could barely keep our feet on a straight path. If I was artistically inclined, I would paint a picture of the grief of losing a child. This picture would be my husband and I walking down a long road, holding the hands of our three living children. It would be raining, but we wouldn't have umbrellas. We would be soaked, dripping, bent over under the weight of the storm, and stumbling down this unknown road. That's how I imagine grief looks on the outside. In spite of the storm I had some open arms that reached out as I stumbled, embraced me in a hug before I crumbled, and guided me so that I didn't fall into those trenches along the road. The first set of arms, are those of my husband. Ryan is not a patient person by nature. He's difficult to live with, short tempered, and often times focused on only one thing. Living with Ryan takes a lot of patience. He will admit this! However, in the days that followed the ultrasound, the days I began to decline in health, the days in the hospital (which went beyond the delivery. We had multiple stays afterwards), and the weeks and months following her death, Ryan took the time to be patient, to shield me from things that would sting, and to just open his arms and let me fall into them. This is not say that things have been perfect, they have not! We have had a very difficult time being in a new marriage and dealing with a devastating loss so early in the marriage. However, without Ryan I wouldn't be in this place today. Secondly, the arms of our parents. Each of McKenna's grandparents were there in the room as she came into the world. They shared that moment, they held her, they told her she is loved! They've allowed us to cry, cried with us, arranged the funeral while I was still hospitalized, listen when Ryan and I don't understand the way one another grieve, and show their love for McKenna daily. They don't forget her or act like she was never here. Without these arms, we would have never been able to get from our knees to the path. Then, there are the arms of my sister-in-law. She stayed in that hospital all night. She stayed by my side for many hours. She understood when I couldn't speak to her, but patted her face instead. She talks about McKenna. She calls McKenna her niece. She stands on the edge of that road to keep us on that path and upright. During McKenna's funeral, Ryan carried her casket down to the site. As I sat in my chair, the finality hit me again. This was it. This was my daughter in a box. This was the end of it. I nearly fell out of my chair. In that moment my brother in law reached out and wrapped his arm around me from behind. Without that single gesture I would have fallen. I would broken down in front of my children in a way that would have frightened them. Just a single movement, but an open arm to show love. For these open arms I am so very grateful! ....I will continue this very soon with more of these open arms. There have been quite a few I want to name!