The first few weeks after Ava died were filled with some of the deepest grief I have ever experienced. When the surgeons reached inside of me and pulled her out it was as if they removed a piece of me as well. I felt like my guts had been ripped out (literally and figuratively).  I cannot describe it any better than to say I just felt empty. My heart and my stomach were a bottomless pit of dark, black, nothingness. In the two months since her death, I have felt like the hole is slowly starting to heal as it is filled with little bits of happiness in my everyday life. A phone call from a friend, a snuggle with my son, a good laugh with my husband, every day something or someone has helped to fill the emptiness, helped me to start feeling whole again. Most days I can feel the emptiness shrinking but lately, I’ve started to feel it growing.

As the days pass and we approach August, Ava’s death becomes more real to me. So far I have been able to push past my grief because the loss wasn’t as real…yet. She wasn’t supposed to be here yet so the only thing that has been missing from my life has been my belly and her kicks and the feeling of being pregnant, but her due date is fast approaching. Soon it will be August. Soon she will suppose to have been born, and soon I will suppose to have two children in my home. I believe the real grief is yet to come.

After August 18 I will no longer be mourning her death and a future without her, I will be mourning an actual lifetime without my daughter. As my Facebook is flooded with August and September birth announcements I will be reminded that I should have been making my announcement too. Every year I will watch those babies grow and celebrate another milestone or another birthday and I will grieve for my baby that should be doing those things too. There will never be a first birthday, a first step, a first tooth, a first smile, or even a first cry. She won’t be here for a first Halloween, first Thanksgiving, or first New Years. Instead, every occasion will be a reminder of her absence. I fear the grief will become too much for me. I’m scared that the hole in my heart will continue to grow and the emptiness will consume me.

Some days are easier than others and my smile comes easily. Some days I want to stay inside and not talk to anyone, but those are the days when I have to fight the hardest or the darkness grows into my chest and I cannot breathe. I’m preparing myself for more of those days. I can’t keep the grief from being a part of me but I will not let it become me. I need to spend my time wisely, collecting moments of happiness in order to ward off the darkness when it hits. I no longer have the luxury of staying in bed all day or taking my world for granted because it leaves me defenseless and I will not survive. Some days it is exhausting but I cannot give in. I have to keep filling the bottomless pit of darkness with light. There is joy that can be found in every day. Sometimes I have to search a little harder for it, but I know it is there and it will save me. It isn’t about strength or courage, it is about survival and this is how I will survive. I will never know a life without grief. I will always carry a dark, empty hole inside of me that will try to grow with every passing day, but if I hope to survive I have to open myself up to the light.