Those of you who follow me (whether it’s here on Missing Link, on my Instagram account, or on my Facebook pages), have probably noticed: I’ve got a case of Writer’s Block.  I have found an incredible amount of support and “healing” through these platforms.  This blog is an outlet.  Instagram and Facebook have given me a way to connect with other loss moms who understand my pain more than those who were already in my life before.  I never understood connecting with people outside of my own little world. I only followed those I knew personally.  But here I am, finding friends in women all around the world.  I am grateful for these connections.  I feel so much less alone.  And I am honored to provide that feeling for others as well. 

But right now, I’m out of words.  It takes a lot of effort: positivity, self-care, self-reflection, life.  I have been feeling burned out.  I have had too much to say.  I haven’t been able to organize my thoughts, and my feelings.  As December approached, I felt heavier and heavier.  I expected that the first would arrive, and I would instantly be depressed.  This hasn’t been the case.  I have surprised myself.  I planned to skip Christmas….but our tree is up, with Lincoln’s ornaments front and center.  I baked Christmas cookies.  I listened to Christmas music.  I smiled and stared up at the sky, enjoying the first snow.  I am feeling joy like I haven’t in quite some time.  I am feeling a little more like myself. And I am too busy living.  

Don’t get me wrong, I still want to write.  I still want to share Lincoln’s story.  I still want him to touch people and to help people.  But I want to write as I feel inspired to do so.  As my life changes and evolves, I will uncover new things to share with you all.  Right now, I will share this:  Don’t be afraid to live.  Our babies are beautiful.  Their lives are meaningful.  They have given us a whole  new sense of purpose.  They chose us to be their mothers. And they would want us to live, and to feel joy: to dream of a better future.  They wouldn’t want us to live a life of fear, just waiting for the next bad thing to happen.  There is this deep-rooted fear: if I am happy, people will think I have forgotten him.  And then they will forget him.  This is just not the case.  I will always remember Lincoln.  I will always love him.  I will always share him.  I will continue  to find ways to honor him in the things that I do.  I will honor him by living life fully. I will honor him by finding beauty in the little things.  I will honor him by taking a break when I need to take a break.  I will build a better life, and I will make him proud. 

I promise you will still hear from me.  I have so many things to share.  But right now, I just want to live.