My grief story begins...

...not at the very beginning but more recently. In the fall of 2020 I experienced my first miscarriage. This was the first moment in my life that my grief completely swallowed me whole. I had experienced a lot of loss before that, but losing a baby was a different story entirely. I didn't start to heal until I was sitting in a chair getting tattooed (a little honeysuckle flower for my lost little one) and receiving Reiki that I realized how much I had been holding all of my grief in my body and how I hadn't let anyone touch me. I sobbed. And then I was able to pick up the pieces and start to put myself back together. After my second miscarriage about a year later, I moved more quickly through my grief. Not because it was easier, it was just very different. And at that point, I had deeply reconnected with my body and knew what I needed to offer myself to live on - live on, not move on. Almost a year after that, my son was born. 

In my life, I've had to say goodbye to many loved ones. I remember ice cream sundaes in hospice with my Nana, talking about dragons and love with my cousin, joking and making plans for wigs with my Aunt and her cancer diagnosis. I remember FaceTime calls with my grandfathers - one during Covid and one when I was very pregnant with my son - unable to be there in person to say I love you. I remember wearing yellow to the funeral of friend who took his own life - yellow to honor his favorite color and his light.

Saying goodbye and holding space for my loves and my losses has been woven into my life from a young age. I'm grateful to my parents for not shutting away grief but instead teaching me that we lean into our love and we grieve together. Because of this, it's how I showed up for myself and it's what I bring to holding space for others. I let grief be loud. Or quiet. Or joyful, scary, messy, devastating... I let grief be whatever it needs to be. I lean in. 
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