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When you let things build up, it is harder to get started. 

It is true of dirty kitchens. 
It is true of blogs.
(Photo courtesy of Leyla hijacking my phone. If you ever want to know how your house REALLY looks to the undiscerning eye — let your toddler run rampant with your iPhone camera unleashed.)
I have 5 drafts that I recently started but haven’t pushed “publish” on. (yet.) some of them are stream of conscious that quickly turned stream of practically unconscious. As brilliant as they seemed the night before, in the morning I awake to garbled thoughts and half-finished sentences. 

Some are more of the same you are used to. Loss anniversaries, and looking back at how year #3 differs from year #2 and year #1. And yet I have held back. There seems to be a sense of “moving on” that I am demanding of myself. 

In some ways, I want to keep writing about how I feel. So those of you who are fresh in your loss can maybe get a glimpse of what it’s like years down the road. (Well, what it’s like for me anyway. You all might feel completely different at this stage.)

And yet insecurity pipes up in her obnoxiously sly voice .. .

“Do you think people still want to hear about that?”

And insecurity, uninvited and unannounced, pronounces that my story, my child, and my journey through grief are in some way not enough to matter or to tell. 
In short… That I have nothing of value to offer you, the reader.

Some are only drafts in my brain. I want to talk about my innate distrust of my body. My anxiety whenever it acts up (and act up it does). And my fear of bringing anything to the doctor because I don’t want them to think I’m a hypochondriac. (Does worrying that you might have hypochondria automatically make you a hypochondriac? Hmmm. I should look that up at WebMD.)

There is the part I long to write about learning to be a different mom than your mother. And being ok with that. 

There is the part about perspective… Of finding the good when you you seem surrounded by bad. 


And yet, tonight, I feel the most important thing to say is actually quite simple. 
I want to say Thanks. 
Thank you for reading my story. Thanks for caring for all of my babies. Thank you for praying for me. Thanks for sharing the posts that speak to you. Thank you for entrusting me with your own stories. 
Thanks for making this space what it is. 
Love to you all, 
Rachel
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