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Have you ever wondered…

If you’d be okay?

If things will ever go back to how they were?

But let’s go back towards the beginning. There were a few things that happened in my life that wanted me to create this blog.

One was this desire to write and I also needed something to get my mind free and clear. A way to express myself that would help me feel free and relaxed, and if I was able to connect with some wonderful people then that was just a plus!

When one loses a child, at least the way I did, I realized that I don’t control a damn thing. And that for me was incredibly hard because I had met the man of my dreams, we were able to buy a house that was in a great place and our job was doing very good. Everything seemed to be going the way it “should be”. We even bought an adorable dog to top it off.

Life was utterly perfect.

Until it wasn’t

Everything seemed to be going swimmingly, until the fateful day I realized that life, isn’t as easy as I thought.

Talk about a wake up call and a shock to anyone’s innocent naive little eyes!

However, when I was trying anything in my power to heal myself and to actually make sense of the world around me, I started this blog, but I didn’t know that there would be a point during which I’d feel like more of a liar and fraud then before.

Fraud? You might be wondering what I mean by that. I see it so much on the Internet. Especially YouTube and Instagram. Where all these people are so damn perfect! They never look like a mess, they have everything under control. They always make it look so easy too, like clearly we all mortels are doing something wrong.

They never eat too much or gain a pound. Their outfits are so perfectly tailored. They’re surroundings are always beautiful and although people are catching on and realizing that it’s all a facade, it still doesn’t matter. People always buy into it mostly because they think that they can have it.

But who can blame us?

They look happy. Almost always there is a huge smile on their perfectly make-uped face. Maybe this is just me though, perhaps I have been sucked into this stupidity so hard that I can’t see my way out? I don’t think so though, I hear a lot lately that people are stopping their social media or like me, backing off a bit and letting the real world come in more.

I would be lying if I told you that I didn’t want to be like this. Being a blogger in a crazy world, I felt like I needed to stay with this trend. I felt like I needed to be able to write these similar successful posts, take pictures of me looking my best and also just flaunting to the whole world that I have my shit together. Even if I really didn’t, but who cares, like I mentioned before, perception is reality.

So I did it (barely!). I tried to keep up with the virtual Jones’ and my God, if you ever want to feel little, not worthy, and definitely like you are bottom of the barrel, then may I suggest trying to be someone you’re not. 

It will eat you alive and spit you out. Making you feel about an inch tall and that you’re really just not that good and never will be.

After too many heart palpitations and sleepless nights later, I’ve decided to stop being a fraud and be who the hell I am. Whatever it is. Regardless of what others think because frankly, it was not only driving me crazy, but it was making me feel like less of a woman, a mom and a wife!

That fateful night

Ever since Gabriella’s death, I’ve had these times when I feel like I am dying and there’s not much that can stop me from thinking it. I truly hate it and when I feel this coming it’s isolating and almost to the point of debilitating.

Want more of the story: Her Name was Gabriella – My Story of Infant Loss

I am not sure if I want to call it a panic attack because frankly, I don’t want to put any sort of label on it. It’s just a feeling that comes and goes. However, at the same time it can be extremely hard to deal with, especially at night. To the point that all I can think about is my body just to collapse in death or my heart just gives up.

When she passed I didn’t mind crying. I didn’t care what people thought because I had just lost my daughter and there’s nothing anyone could say to make me feel stupid. But as the time goes on, I would tell myself to “buck up” and essentially “move on”. Well, as much as that tough exterior might have made me look fine, my insides were being ripped apart and my mind was crying hysterically.

One reason I justified not letting me feel my whole emotions is because I know I am not the only one that has been through something traumatic and I really despise when I am told that I have and that’s the reason I’m still “sad”.

I feel truly blessed and fortunate, and sadly there are so many people out there that have had it worse and still has lost more than me and are doing better (at least in my mind).

I realize I am comparing, which can be a very bad thing to do, but I secretly wish I didn’t have to worry about this. I wonder how many other woman can hold themselves together and not have these sensations of absolute terror.

I know that we don’t have control over anything

And I don’t at all and even though logically I get it, my emotional side just refuses to understand it and let it be as it is. Trust God. I do! But what is holding me back?

I feel this false sense of control that I really don’t have. I wanted to start a family of my own and Gabriella was so ill and God had mercy on her which she deserved.

The world really was not ready for such an angel.

And I was ready to let go because of how ill she was, but honestly when I was with her I felt like this different person. Like I had a reason. A job. Someone needed me so badly to be there, I was her mom! Even though I had no idea what I was doing, it still felt right.

She was a fighter and although I had already lost my mother in law and grandma (on the same day no less) about 10 months earlier, death was not something I would consider taboo. I knew she had no life here, and death was mostly immenent, I wasn’t ready to let her go.

She was mine.

She was a part of me and although it was terribly unfair that she had got the short end of the stick, I was there for her. Although she never opened her eyes, I knew she could see how much I love her.

On her last day

God was there with me and my husband. He comforted me so much during this time. I felt stronger than ever before. When I had received the call that she was dying, I didn’t break down, but I was able to be there to hold her and tell her how much her daddy and I loved her to the moon and back.

She came into this world knowing love and she was able to leave it with love too. In her 29 days she dealt with so much pain, but she taught me so much.

The thing is though

I feel like I am such a weak person.

I have these stupid attacks that prevent me from living.

That is not what I want. I feel that strong woman when she was here is gone because I am so scared of everything. Where did I go? Where did that woman who felt that I could do anything, she’s gone. Maybe just for now. Or did she die when my daughter died?

But then God had other plans and with such a devastating circumstance, He gave my husband and me three boys. Although they are not my blood and I didn’t birth them, I consider myself their mother and love them so much. But that strong woman feels scared and I don’t know how to get that strength back.

Want the story: I am a Mom to 3 Boys… Overnight!

This wonder woman whom I became before, perhaps she wasn’t real. Maybe from the outside I looked strong, but inside I was this lost and terrifed girl who knew nothing but her daughter was probably going to die and I was playing mommy but deep down knew it wasn’t going to be long-term.

I remember when she was born I was so in shock I didn’t want to see her because they were telling me she was going to die very soon. I wanted to reject the idea that I even had a baby.

That doesn’t sound very strong to me.

Some people tell me that they had love at first sight with their baby, but for me, it was shock, terror and anger. Which then subsided and became immense love and fight.

I feel like I am dying

When I have these “attacks” I feel like I will die, and I feel like I can’t control it.

My brain is strong and it is making me feel like I am sick when I really am not. I even went to the doctors and came out good and yet for some reason I feel like something’s wrong. (That’s when I know that it’s all in my head.) It’s not right. I am a healthy person. I can go to the doctor’s every single day and come out with a clean bill of health but I know that I will not think so.

This has to change.

But I think it is necessary to say that thank God that these feelings don’t happen often, and it’s starting to be longer and longer in between them.

I need to be strong now for the boys. But that’s why I get upset too because after Gabriella, I didn’t think I wanted any more children. I didn’t want to go through anything like that all. I didn’t want to carry a baby, love her more than anything, feel her move and get excited for her arrival just to have it ripped from me.

Just as she never got a fair shake at life. And as selfish as it sounds, I feel like I never got a fair shake at motherhood.

It was stolen from me.

Seeing a mother and baby still has the ability to choke me up depending on my mood. But what right do I have to complain? There’s always more people that have it worse. The joys that so many women feel, was ripped from me and I hate that, instead, I got hospital stays, doctor’s speeches and sad faces from everyone telling me they are sorry.

But then God gives me three beautiful boys and I don’t feel like I will ever be good enough. And although that might be true, I need to stop feeling like this.


That is a million dollar question.

When Gabriella died, a piece of me died too. The funny thing is, when she died I was relieved that she didn’t have to suffer and I felt guilty as well (that damn mommy guilt!) a bit for feeling relieved.

Life is hard because you’re damned if you do and you’re damned if you don’t.

I feel like my innocence and the little extra zest for life I once had has been taken. I used to be so carefree. Although I may be frustrated at times, I am happy. I am so blessed for my husband and I can’t believe how much I love him. I wake up every single day happy, but the carefree Jennifer is gone and I wish I could get her back. I don’t want to be scared anymore. Even if I am scared, I don’t want it to rule my life.

I don’t want to worry anymore about death. How is that living?

I don’t want to allow this to control me anymore.

Life is difficult and I am just trying to figure out my place in it. I learned with my daughter that you really can’t plan out a damn thing. Well at least my family, we can’t because it rarely ever turns out.

I don’t believe in a spiteful God but sometimes I am just waiting for the second shoe to drop and I know that’s not the right way to think of it.


I am not writing this post for any sort of sympathy and please I don’t need any at all. I really just need to write and express this and perhaps one of you feel this type of anxiety that doesn’t make much sense.

Where does being a fraud come in?

So, how does this idea of being a fraud come in?

Because, think about it.

I was constantly trying to be someone I wasn’t, trying to hold back how I was feeling and trying to live a life that wasn’t sincerely mine. I wanted what everyone wanted although it wasn’t genuine.

All I want is to do what really interests me, write what I want to write and if no one wants to read it, I’ve learned to be okay with it.

Being who you are really meant to be and then living it is truly one of the most liberating feelings that I’ve ever experienced.

So I just want to scream it from the rooftops!



In conclusion

I often ask myself, will I ever be whole again?

Will I ever be “normal” again?

After everything, I’ve realized that the answers are yes.

Yes I will be whole again and yes I will be normal. My normal might be a bit different than it was before, but I do know I will be recognize that woman who looks back in the mirror.

Today as I write this, it’s been a few weeks since my last sleepless night and as much as I hate them, I learn more and more about myself as a woman and a wife. With every terrible moment that I experience, I learn more about who I am as a person.

It might not be the last sleepless night I have, but I know that one day everything will be okay.


Because it always is.

Just be yourself. Always.



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