By Madison Shepard

Feeling both joy and grief simultaneously is difficult to live out. I have talked to a couple of my close friends before about experiencing the two individually, but that was in the wake of an early loss and a stillbirth; I had yet to have a living representation of both in my arms. As I now hold one living baby and grieve two others, I face a new reality of what joy and grief truly look like in my daily life.

I have to wrestle with heart and logic to remind myself that I am allowed to experience happiness and enjoy my son, even while missing his siblings. I have to remind myself that it is okay to feel both. Logically, I am aware that life continues on and I can, and will be, happy and experience true joy. My heart, on the other hand, is fearful of stepping into this next adventure of having a baby here – I have faced loss before, and I am not eager to face it again.

Being happy with what I have does not mean that I have moved on from what I have lost; it simply means my heart has created space for what is next. Grieving what I have lost does not mean I am unhappy with what I have; it shows that I love my kids. That was something I had to learn because it felt like I could only have one or the other, when in reality I am capable of carrying both.

Living out joy and grief feels a bit like being in limbo. I constantly live between two worlds, and it is strange… this precarious balance of forever knowing we are missing two while we continue to remain present in the moment for Azure, our rainbow, as well as any future kids we will have. It is not something to be learned overnight, which is why it is difficult to explain it to anyone who has not been there. I am only three years into my own journey of joy and grief so, while I have first-hand experience, I have much to learn and process yet.

Joy and grief can work together and coexist within a given moment. Christmas is my favorite holiday and I always enjoy the traditions I have built with my family, but I would have loved to watch our three-year-old and two-year-old open presents this last Christmas. This summer I know we will be spending hours in my parents’ pool, something I love doing, but having toddlers in the pool would be SO much fun.

There are days that are incredibly difficult, where I ache to hold my little girl again, but I also have family, my husband, and my baby here that I can love on and hold close. Joy in the moments of grief and grief in the moments of joy. For a mom like me, there is no separating the two. They are tangled up in the innerworkings of my heart and mind, twisting and turning to create a unique tapestry of emotion.

I never have, and never will, allow grief to be the forerunner in my life. I cannot allow myself to be consumed by it because I would never come out of that dark hole. I think of grief as a scar; it is forever there, and it can hurt, but I don’t allow that scar to dictate how I live my life.

That doesn’t mean there are not hard days, and certain things can be incredibly difficult, but I don’t stay there. I have my moment — sometimes I have a day — but I always move forward.

Joy and grief may seem like polar opposites, but there is space for both, and both are welcome here.

 Madison Shepard and her husband are recipients of On Angels’ Wings services. They are parents to three children: Cas, who they lost early in pregnancy; their daughter, Indigo, who was born and passed of a terminal diagnosis at 36 weeks gestation; and their rainbow baby son, Azure. From her grief, Madison has found a passion to end the stigma around pregnancy and infant loss by sharing their story, both to encourage other parents like them and to teach others about life after the loss of pregnancy and infant loss.