Some Weeks Are Harder Than Others!!

Some Weeks Are Harder Than Others

Some weeks are harder than others.

This is one of those weeks.

It’s only Tuesday, and I’m already feeling the weight of what’s ahead. I know that as the week continues, it will become even harder. So I’m reminding myself to follow the same advice I often give others: take one step at a time.

This week, I have to be intentional.

I have to keep my mind focused.

I have to guard my attitude and not let every little thing get under my skin.

Most of all, I have to give myself grace.

Because this week takes me back to the day my life changed forever.

On July 11, two years ago, I walked into an ultrasound appointment excited to see my baby for the very first time.

At 45 years old, I was about to become a mommy.

Bernard, at 48, was about to become a daddy.

One of my most vivid memories from that day is turning to Bernard and asking, “What do you see?”

He looked at the screen and quietly replied, “A baby.”

There was something in his voice I had never heard before.

He wasn’t just looking at an ultrasound.

He was seeing his child for the very first time.

About twenty minutes later, everything changed.

We were sitting in the doctor’s office being told that our daughter was ectopic.

I was already over three months pregnant.

She had grown so much that surgery was my only option. The doctors couldn’t believe I had made it that far without being in unbearable pain.

There wasn’t time to process what was happening.

Within minutes, I was being rushed into surgery.

One moment I was happier than I had ever been, dreaming about becoming a mom.

The next, I woke up to a world that no longer looked the same.

My daughter was gone.

July 11 became the day our daughter went to her heavenly home.

It also became the day she officially received the name Ella Gloria Jean Patrick.

Instead of leaving the hospital with dreams of bringing my daughter home in my arms, I was handed a small Styrofoam heart holding her remains.

That heart came home with Bernard and me before we took Ella to the funeral home the next day.

I remember wondering, How did I get here?

I was completely broken.

I carried so much guilt.

I questioned everything.

I wondered what I had done wrong.

I felt like I had let my baby girl down.

I was heartbroken that I couldn’t bring her into this world breathing.

And I grieved not only the loss of my daughter, but also the experiences Bernard would never have raising his baby girl.

Those thoughts stayed with me for a long time.

Truthfully, sometimes they still creep in today.

Grief has a way of revisiting us, especially around anniversaries.

But somewhere in the middle of my grief, my perspective began to change.

I became grateful for the time I did have with Ella.

Because of her, I experienced pregnancy.

Because of her, I became a mommy.

Because of her, Bernard became a daddy.

And because of her, I discovered a love unlike anything I had ever known.

The unconditional love between a parent and a child.

A love that death could never take away.

I’m also grateful that I don’t have to walk this journey alone.

I have Bernard.

Together, we remember.

Together, we grieve.

Together, we lift each other up on the days when one of us feels too weary to stand on our own.

The same love that created our daughter is the same love that continues to carry us through.

So this week, I’m giving myself grace.

I’m going to remember my daughter.

I’m going to cherish every moment I had with her.

I’m going to take this week one step…

one hour…

one moment at a time.

If this week has taught me anything, it’s that grief and gratitude can exist in the same heart.

I miss my daughter every single day.

I wish I could have watched her grow.

I wish I could have celebrated birthdays, school plays, and all the ordinary moments that make a family.

But I will always be thankful that God chose Bernard and me to be Ella’s parents.

On July 11, while many will remember it as the day our daughter went to her heavenly home, we will remember it as the day she became Ella Gloria Jean Patrick.

Our beautiful daughter.

Forever loved.

Forever our miracle.

Forever our daughter.