December 14th

The weight of everything came tumbling down like an avalanche. I think a part of me has gone numb to try and not drown in the grief before me. There’s a certain switch you have to turn off to be able to function and still be a mom to the other kids that need you. The reality hit me hard as I realized I have been living in constant trauma and haven’t had a single moment to breathe or even fully begin to process. I went from a traumatic birth at home to being rushed to the hospital while the EMTs told me to keep massage Koa’s chest so he didn’t stop breathing. Imagine trying to process that while my body was already hemorrhaging and pain from a broken pelvis. My body went into shock and I had to fight to stay present for my son.

I remember the Emts fighting to get the Cpap machine to work and if it wasn’t for my midwife behind me they wouldn’t have even noticed that the gage wasn’t moving at all. For nearly the entire ride to the hospital I don’t remember that gage moving and I often wonder if that caused more harm to my sweet boy. Right now my body is searching for something to cling to. It’s searching for answers and a reason that this happened to my boy. I know I should just be grieving but right now the unknown seems so deafening. I just have so many questions and so many fears that I don’t even know where to begin to process. I went from that to the 12 horrific days fighting for my sons life. To practically running out of the hospital after almost watching him die in my arms at the hospital. I’ll never forget the gasping for air or the life fading from his face. We rushed home and 30 minutes later he took his last breath as he laid with his head on my chest and his sweet hand pressed against my collar bone.

For now I’m trying to lay all these overwhelming thoughts down as I sit in a hanging chair on the beautiful porch of a cabin in Broken Bow. The morning air is bitterly cold but I don’t mind it. In a way it’s forcing me to stay fully present. The beauty surrounding this cabin is a sweet reminder of our creator and the one who gets to snuggle my sweet koko now. How I long to have him in my arms again. My arms feel empty and my heart just aches all day. My body is in a constant state of complete peace but also about to have a panic attack at any moment. How does that work? It feels like my body is in a war with itself, isn’t grief so fun? Although, my focus has turned to honoring Koa and how to forever keep him present in our family and in this world.

Tonight we will join thousands of people as we light a candle at 7pm to honor child loss. I am inviting you to light a candle for Koa and take a picture. Feel free to tag me on socials or send it directly to me. What a sweet reminder it will be to see how many people have been impacted by sweet Koa and his beautiful life. Tonight we will gather in this beautiful cabin as we honor Koa and mourn him together. The room will fill with praise but also sorrow as we grieve his presence not being here with us.

For now I am trying to be present and make sweet memories here at the cabin. Every time we laugh and have fun it feels almost wrong. Every joyful moment is filled with a sharp pain aching for Koa to be here making these memories with us. Maybe this will be my new normal. Maybe I will always have these beautiful moments but inside always feel this heaviness wishing to have my son here. God come quickly.

Here are tangible things I am doing every day to survive and function. Starting my day allowing myself to feel whatever I need. Often this means crying or curling up in a ball or just needing extra space. Next every day I journal or write here or both. Next say his name and talk openly about him so he is still present with me. Finally, set small goals to accomplish each day. This gives me a sense of control again and helps steady my body to not feel completely out of control. For example shower, drink water, each one meal, get dressed, play with my girls, or just manage to be present with my family. My goal is three things every day and give myself grace if I don’t hit those.

I also am focused on making sure I don’t run from or avoid things that remind me of Koa. My screen saver is now Koa and his hand prints are on our fridge. I never leave the house without Koko’s blanket that he passed in. There’s enough trauma triggers that I wanted to surround myself with his beautiful features and memories. As much as I am trying to be present here at the cabin I am still constantly reminded that we are burying our son in five days. I have a celebration of life to plan and somehow that all seems impossible. Lord give me the grace and the strength to be like Job even in the darkness of the next week. Let my life glorify and point other’s to you even in my brokenness. I love you Koa James and I miss you.