Rebuilding Is Not Pretty—It’s Sacred

Nobody tells you how lonely rebuilding can feel after loss.

They talk about healing. About strength. About moving forward. But they don’t talk about the days you sit on the edge of your bed, frozen. The meals you skip. The family members you quietly distance yourself from. The way the holidays hurt.

Rebuilding isn’t this tidy timeline of growth. It’s jagged. It’s honest. It’s holy.

When my son died, I didn’t know how to keep going. I wasn’t inspired. I wasn’t brave. I was surviving. And that survival looked like cutting ties with people who couldn’t hold my grief. It looked like staying home when everyone else gathered. It looked like starting a brand new Instagram account where I didn’t have to pretend I was okay.

Rebuilding looked like pajamas until noon. Like crying in the grocery store. Like telling the truth even when my voice shook.

And over time, slowly, painfully, honestly—that rebuild started to take shape.

Not because I planned it. But because I stopped performing.

Here’s what I want you to know: you don’t have to make your healing pretty for it to be real. You don’t have to prove that you’re getting better. You don’t owe anyone progress they can measure.

Rebuilding after child loss is personal. It might mean:

Saying no to family traditions that don’t fit anymore.

Making new friends who can sit in silence without trying to fix it.

Letting go of the timeline you once imagined.

Praying differently. Or not knowing how to pray at all.

You’re not doing it wrong. You’re just doing it honestly.

And sometimes, that’s what makes it sacred.

This kind of rebuilding doesn’t need to be inspiring. It just needs to be real.

So if you’re sitting in the in-between right now—the not-yet, the unraveling, the "I don’t even know who I am anymore"—let this be your reminder:

Your grief is not a problem to fix. And your healing doesn’t have to look impressive.

It only has to look like truth.

So show up messy. Let the dishes sit. Stay in bed a little longer if you need to.

Rebuilding isn’t pretty. But it is sacred.

And you're not alone in it.

With grace and grit,

Julie