The fatigue is unreal. I used to feel it after every hospital stay when we returned home, but this is so different. In the first week after Marsaili passed, the adrenaline was still high. We had so much to do. So much to plan. Then, once the services were done, her ashes were home, and we were all beginning to settle in to whatever our new “normal” would be, my body began to crash. Over the past two weeks, my body has craved sleep. I can’t do many tasks for long before I’m back on the couch again. More often than not, I am frustrated with this. I want so badly to do more, but my body says “no” very loudly. It’s hard not to feel weak in these moments - to feel lesser than. For those of us who have been caregivers for extended periods of time, this fatigue can be difficult to accept as part of our grief because it looks so different than what we have experienced in grief before. It can be challenging to recognize ourselves and to give ourselves that much needed rest without shame. And that shame is two-fold: 1. After years of pushing and pushing and being told how strong we are, it hurts to feel the limits of our humanity so deeply. 2. It hurts to acknowledge that our sense of safety came after such a profound loss. In many ways, that safety feels undeserved. I find comfort only in acknowledging the truth that Jesus calls us over and over again to rest. Especially in times of tremendous grief, He calls us to lean into His strength and find comfort in His arms. I imagine that in her perfectly healed state, Marsaili looks down on us and hopes that we will unashamedly do just that. It is ok to rest. #grief #griefjourney #bereavedparents #bereavedmother #childloss #lissencephaly