Friends: What have you found to help you at all in your grief journeys? What gives you hope, even a sliver of it? What have you tried that you thought would help but did not, or vice versa? How do you spend your time when you are thinking about your loss?

Here's my answer:

I've spent endless hours online looking for stories I can relate to, and endless hours exploring the medical side of what happened, on a mission to figure out as much as I can about when, how, etc. I want answers so badly. I appear to be on a quest to convince myself these things even happen, that this can even be real. Without reading others' stories, it feels like I made this all up, like it's just a horrible nightmare that I never could have imagined or that I'll wake from (oh, how I wish...).

I've tried a counselor, and I'm keeping up with it. I've talked to medical professionals about my case. I've read the books I Will Carry You, Good Grief, An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination, and a couple other little books people have sent me. I've been to a support group and am planning to return, and I'm probably going to join another one as well. I've read tons of tons of stories here on Glow and on Faces of Loss. I've reached out to some of the ppl whose stories I most understood. As ppl here say constantly, I've "been gentle on myself." I don't do things I don't want to do, and vice versa. I've been doing a VERY slow transition back to my job and aspects of my former life. I have a very thorough journal/record of my thoughts.

I don't think anything I've named has hurt. But the pain is still very raw, all-consuming, all I think about, etc. Having hope is very difficult. Honestly what gives me hope is the idea of another child. But I am scared to even hope it because it could be so long, years even, before that comes true, for various reasons. Having had all of my hopes (and beyond) shattered already, it's scary to even go there again mentally, but I do. I go between thinking no, that will never happen, that won't be easy, that will be years away even if it does happen, you might be the only person you know who just can't have that dream come true, just give up all expectations of that dream... to then thinking, that could happen, it might be before you would think, try to relax a little, your journey is going to take a lot longer than most but you will get there, surely lightning won't strike you again.

My most hopeful thoughts are still a little sad. :-/

Writing. Writing helped immensely. It slowed the spinning thoughts down, helped me decide on an interpretation of what was happening (what it means to me, my life), helped get a static snapshot of each scene we went through instead of the crazy onslaught of random flashbacks.

Publishing my writing was overwhelming but liberating. I felt like I own my grief now, like I've shed the identity of The One With The Tragedy, the one that others talk about in hushed voices but never approach.

I come from a region with a history of war, and while I personally avoided being in an active war zone, it helps that I know many people who have been through a lot, yet managed to carry on with their lives eventually. They carry a certain bitterness, but they also know joy and plan ahead for a normal life. I knew I would bounce back to something different but still pretty normal one day. It helped a lot not to have to worry whether it would ever end.

My work helps. I like it, and it's good to have interests beyond motherhood. I wasn't focused on it at all at first, but eventually the interest came back.

My five-year-old son, who is a constant source of joy.

Being at peace with the fact that my husband and I approach this differently, and knowing we will eventually converge... and if we don't, that it will also be OK.

Reading about other people's experiences, although this started only after a while. At first, other people's pain just made me feel worse.

Avoiding anything social for a long time.

Saying I can't deal with stuff when I couldn't deal, no matter how trivial.

Being allowed to be locked in my thoughts and to my laptop for days on end, without being asked to snap out of it.

Having those crucial few people who could listen well. Perhaps that was the most important - to be heard, to feel understood. It wasn't people who had the same experience as me, just people I felt had depth and kindness. Being able to share thoughts via e-mail, instead of saying them. I couldn't speak about what happened to us for a very long time. It is easier to type through the tears.

Springtime. Sunshine. Taking the long way home from work on my bike. That helped rather more than I expected. Pumped the anxiety right out into the pedals.

Putting together a picture album. It contains my writing, pictures of her, of the funeral and when we scattered the ashes. It is now on the shelf next to my son's baby album.

Right now, almost a year later, it helps to read boards like this one, to talk to people and sometimes offer some helpful words.

Being with good friends that dears to talk about the lost one, that includes them.

My living children and my DH

Long walks, tine in the gyn (that wouldn't hell for the dfirst year and a half after our second loss, but noe it gives me pleasure)

Beeing creativ

Do good for others.

Feel like I'm needed.

At first only physical things seemed to help me. I would tire myself out at the gym so sleep cam easier and I spent a lot of time outside near the water and in the sunshine.

After a few weeks I wanted tangible ways to keep Shelby in my life. So I printed the photo of her feet they gave me at the hospital, I had it framed with her birth certificate and hung it on my wall. I Ordered a sunset picture with her name on it and had it framed too. I ordered a Christmas bauble for her to hang every year. I bought a floating locket with her name written inside and a charm for her, I wear it when I need to. It helped me that she was acknowledged in our home. Because she wasn't anywhere else.

Counselling helped.... but I had to go through 3 therapists before I found the one that worked for me.

Be gentle with yourself x

Hi Shelby's mum, scandinavian endo-girl, Ana, nm

Whilst this wasn't my post. It helps to see what others have done to move forwards with their lives.

I am still finding everything so difficult. It's hard to not be in tears all day, to think in a straight line. I feel isolated all the time. My heart feels so broken. I thought that I would have started to feel better by now.