Since Kenley died, I have lost 49 lbs. I cannot seem to get the last pound to officially fall off to make -50. The majority of it fell off in the early days after her death. I just couldn’t eat. Like, food was the least of my worries. I had days where I didn’t eat anything. People reminded me that I had to eat. How could I eat something when my daughter just died? How do you expect me to sit down and enjoy a meal when I just lost a child? 

During the week we returned home from the Hospital, multiple people offered to bring us dinners/food. People from Shane’s work brought us food, friends brought us food, and the ladies from my board sent us things. In my head it was like we’re getting food because our daughter died; because these people know that there is a really good chance we won’t be able to take care of ourselves for a little while after this. They were right. They were so right. 

I remember at Landon’s birthday party (about a month and a half after we lost K), someone told me I “looked good” because I lost weight. I know this person didn’t mean anything except exactly what they said, you know? But in my head I was screaming “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? OF COURSE I LOST WEIGHT. I LOST MY DAUGHTER. I WANT TO DIE SO EATING IS THE LAST THING ON MY MIND. THANKS”.  I find myself thinking things in my head like this quiet often now. The early days were so. incredibly. hard.

It has gotten better now, as time is passing, but sometimes it’s still hard. Sometimes I will look at what I’m eating and just think “yeah, I have no desire to eat that/anything”. There are day’s where I literally forget to eat; those are the bad days. Those are the day’s where I can’t get my head above water. The day’s where I literally just can’t with life. Those days are scary; those are the days I am thankful I’m on medication. The thoughts that accompany loss are not your own.

I’m a happy person. Meeting Shane changed my outlook on life a lot.  I have a great life, an amazing, hard working Husband, a wonderful Son, a loving dog and crazy cat. We have financial stability, cars that we love, our home is furnished and decorated exactly how I want it to be, and we have pretty much everything we could want…except our daughter. It’s so fucked up. It’s the ONE thing I would trade everything I own for. The one thing I would sell my soul for; give MY life for…and we can’t have her. How unfair is that? It makes me sound like a toddler throwing a tantrum when I say it out loud, but seriously.

We went for a hike today- 3.75 miles. We took Wilbert, and stopped half way for a picnic. Landon’s poor little legs probably felt like mush. During the walk, I didn’t really think of much. I find that being out on trails and doing things like that keeps my mind occupied but completely empty if that makes any sense. On the way back from our picnic we walked a different trail. After a little while there was a bench to sit on. We took a seat and I read the memorial plaque. It was for Aiden Mckee. A child born on 12/8/04, who passed away on 12/10/04. I just knew that was Kenley telling me she was with us. I cried for a minute or two. If by some chance you know Aiden’s parents, tell them we sat with their boy today.

As we kept walking, we stopped at a tree sign (as we had been doing the whole hike without seeing this tree) and saw a flowering dogwood- The exact tree we planted for Kenley in our yard. Another sign? Sure. The final sign was as we were close to exiting the trail, a Cardinal flew across our path. Whenever I see a cardinal I think of her (along with my Grandpa Ron, thanks to my Grandma’s love of them). Metro parks are very wooded and usually we never see birds on the trails. Well, Kenley made sure we knew she was with us today. I would have given anything to have her wrapped up on me, carrying her the entire way.

I miss her so incredibly much.

Nothing will ever be the same.