A Mourning Mom

The Triathlon

This weekend I swam, biked and ran. My only real goal was to finish in one piece and hopefully have some fun along the way. As I raced I realized that grief (or my experiences with it so far) is a lot like a triathlon.

Getting into the cool water is shocking and sudden. Keep moving – no matter what chaos or fogginess has set in, the only solution is forward motion.

“There is nothing left we can do for Jake.”
“Baby is not breathing.”

Next, there is bawling and bargaining. After the shock wears off a bit there are lots and lots of tears.

I would have traded places with Jake and Sawyer if it was humanly possible. I stared at the hospital walls and pleaded that it was me not them.

There are downhills and some coasting but there is always a hill up ahead. Shifting gears helps at times but not always.

Lastly, reality sets in but it is not the same reality as before – the shock has turned to sadness and the bawling has become bittersweetness. The bargaining is done.

My goal is still the same, to finish in one piece and hopefully have some fun along the way.