Mum's gone. I feel lost. I'm pregnant and struggling with the sickness and nausea and exhaustion. And everyday I'm writing out what I'm grateful for.
I feel like a grey cloud has descended on me, like I'll never be that positive, happy, confident person I was BEFORE. Before Mum died.
Some days it's a real struggle to find the 15 things I'm grateful for. I'm back sharing my lists on an awesome, supportive community of peeps on Coach.me and when I said I was grateful for my kettle a few people commented in amusement (and agreement). But for me right now it is those tiny little things that are giving me something to hold on to.
"Ok, my Mum has gone and that sucks but I still have this amazingly simple way to make a cup of tea. "
Right now I am most contented in my bed. I don't have the energy or inclination to be sociable. I wish the Victorian tradition of wearing black was still around so everyone would know I'm grieving, I'm sad and not to expect too much from me. But I don't have that luxury. So instead I'm mostly hibernating and practicing gratitude daily in the hope that I will emerge from this cocoon into the happy, confident, positive woman I was before this wave of grief, exhaustion and vomiting knocked me off my feet. Or maybe not the same as before. I'm missing a part of me. And I'm growing into becoming a Mother again too. The wound of loosing Mum needs to heal. Scar tissue looks different. Life without the bright, shiny radiance that Mum gave off wherever she went feels duller, plainer.
My Mum was an inspiration to me. She had such strength of character and achieved so much in her time on this planet. And so, to be true to that statement about being inspired I need to step up. To be strong, to be brave (and afraid at the same time). And to get there I'm starting with the baby step of practicing gratitude. Noticing the small things, like my children laughing together, the flutter of tiny feet as new life grows inside me, the strong arms of my gorgeous husband who is keeping our family of creation together while I am so lost. And I know in time I will be able to look with gratitude at the wonderful, happy memories I have of my Mum. But for now they are too raw and too painful. And I thank God for my kettle.