Aimee Jones Faith-Based Encouragement, Parenting After Loss

Good Gifts

The first weeks after Ginny was stillborn, the grief was so heavy and all consuming that we just wanted to run away from it. We had to get out of our townhouse where everything happened and where her nursery was glaring at us from across the hall. Daniel and I decided to get away for a day trip to Asheville NC, a few hours away in the mountains. We had been wanting to visit the North Carolina Arboretum which we heard was beautiful. We thought being in nature and in a new cool town would give us a little break from our grief. We quickly learned how wrong we were. It’s impossible to run away from your grief. It follows you everywhere. I remember feeling so disappointed. We walked through the arboretum, but as it was mid March, spring had not yet sprung and most trees were still bare. We saw the potential for such beautiful gardens but the winter struck barrenness. We felt cold and heartbroken. I remember crying in a booth at a restaurant during lunch. Food still had no taste to me. Would we ever have fun again? Would anything be good again? We had the realization that not only could we not run away from our grief but new environments shone the grief in different and painful light. Every new experience was an experience without Ginny. It was something she’d never get to do and we’d never get to do with her. Life felt ruined. It felt like all our blessings had turned to curses. We left Asheville exhausted and a little bitter. 

Hope would seep in slowly over the next year, starting when we had friends over for St Patrick’s Day just a few days later. Little by little sparks of fun would distract from the grief only seconds at a time. Eventually we would master the ability to live in balance between joy and sorrow. Both feelings weaved in every day and every experience. With the arrival of Chet and Addie, joy and laughter flooded our days. We would in fact have fun again. We would be given good gifts again. And it would all still be blended with grief. 

This year is Daniel and my 15 year wedding anniversary. We decided to celebrate with a night away to Asheville, NC, now only 1 hr and 20 min from our home in South Carolina. My sister and brother in law graciously offered to watch the kids. 

We drove straight to the NC Arboretum. As we entered we were greeted by luscious greenery everywhere we looked. Flowers were blooming and butterflies were fluttering. Life was everywhere! Of course there were plenty of sunflowers shining up at us. The dormancy of winter had given way to the fruitfulness of June. It was such a reflection of our full lives. We walked hand in hand through the gardens and we talked about all three of our kids. We talked about how badly we missed Ginny. This was such a full circle moment. We sat on a pair of wooden rocking chairs and looked up through bright green leaves that seemed to shimmer in the breeze. And I felt God’s love. And I took in God’s good gifts. And I was blessed. 

This is not a story of how God answered our prayers or gave us what we wanted. This is a story of God bringing us through a dark time into the light again. This is about hope that doesn’t ask you to leave your grief behind in order to experience happiness, but rather carries your grief along with you to ease your burden while you receive all God is giving you. And He still does give good gifts.

Aimee Jones Parenting After Loss

Parenting After Loss: 5 Years

Five years of parenting after loss, 2 rainbow babies, 3 states, 4 homes – we miss Ginny more than ever! We bring our love for her with us on every new adventure our family undertakes. Our love only grows. Our realization of the true gravity of the loss expands when we see Chet and Addie take on each new stage of childhood. We see what she’s missing, what they are missing, what we are missing from her not being here. She’s part of our family, so 5 years of parenting other children won’t make us forget. Five years of parenting other children won’t make us ok with death. 

For anyone who feels like they should be done grieving their miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant loss, please know that it is ok to never stop grieving your child. They should’ve been with you the rest of your life, but they are gone. That is worthy of your mourning, no matter how many years and how many other children you have. Just because you grieve doesn’t mean you don’t have hope. Just because you grieve doesn’t mean you aren’t healing. It is right to be brokenhearted over death – even if you know it is temporary. 

These years later, I will say the grief has changed. The pain isn’t as sharp. The sorrow is not all encompassing. I think of Ginny throughout the day with love, but her death does not consume the majority of my thoughts as it once did. The waves of grief come less often and less intense. Noticing that happening made me sad at first, but now I am ok with it. I realize it doesn’t make me love her any less. I’ve grown strong enough to bear the reality of her absence most of the time. 

Now that we are done having children, I feel like my grief has evolved even more. Anticipating and experiencing pregnancy after loss kept my heart in a state of vulnerability that I am now free from. I will admit, it feels good that that phase is complete. I still have fear of losing my kids or other loved ones. I have to fight intrusive thoughts daily, but it is not as severe as it was with a baby in my womb. 

I worry this distances me from the beloved baby loss community I’ve been a part of since Ginny died. Can I relate to women going through loss in a meaningful way? Are my memories too distant to be of any support or encouragement? Am I more likely to say something hurtful now that I’m not going through it alongside her? I pray that God can still use me through my loss. I want to follow His will for my life whether that be in the baby loss community or elsewhere. I do know that the lessons of my suffering and hope impacts literally everything I do. It has changed who I am so whatever I do, it will be because of Ginny and the work God did in me through her life and death. I do hope my life parenting two children after loss can give others’ hope for the future after their losses.