Change

       Change is inevitable in life. It is part of getting older. I’ve always been a firm believer that the situations in your life make you but your reaction to it is what molds you. The odd thing about that school of thought is that losing Wyatt changed me before I even had time to react. The second I heard that his heart wasn’t beating, a piece of me was gone. When I saw him in my husband’s arms while lying on the operating table, another piece left me. No time to react, yet there I was changed forever. I have become this person that I’m not used to being, and I know eventually I’ll move past some traits I’d rather not have, and I’ll accept the others. The Heather before was self-assured and confident in all decisions. She lived with minimal guilt and regret. The now Heather lives in a world of self-doubt constantly questioning everything I do, I’ve done, and things I haven’t even done yet. I’m still that person that says what I mean and means what I say, but I find myself talking less. This is probably a good thing, in most people’s opinion! Haha! Each morning, I yearn to be that woman I was that didn’t think less of my decisions. I pray for the strength to be as convicted as I was before. I suspect this is what all mothers that lose a child feel and go through. Please don’t take this as a pity party for myself; it isn’t. I’m just stating what constantly goes around and around in head. I know I’m a good mom and still have tons of room to grow.
      In the beginning everyone would say and some still do, at least you have Barrett to keep you going. I would simply say yes or nod my head, but the reality is that he isn’t really what keeps me going through this. Yes, I love my Barrett more than words could ever say, and I do my absolute best not to take any second for granted with him. I don’t get up in the morning for him though. Before everyone gets bent out of shape, just hear me out. The old Heather would have thought that too. Other children will be your saving grace. I came to the realization very early in this grief process that making the choice to get out of bed and keep living couldn’t be for me, or for Barrett, or for my husband; it had to be for Wyatt. He lived, but only in me, so it is through me that he will continue to live. 
     Change will happen, often times when you really don’t want it to happen. I pray that this change doesn’t occur in your life, but if it does, know that there are many of us switching lanes on the interstate of life with you. I’m not going to say that it won’t define you, because it will. What I’m learning is part of the process of grieving is learning how to exist as the old you and new you! With love- Heather 

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