Do you ever feel like you cannot draw the line between the sacred and the secular, between the spiritual and the mundane? I do. In fact, most of the time I think the mundane is the spiritual. Most of the time I don’t want to draw a line at all, but rather to draw a circle around the whole soggy, wonderful mess.

I was 21 years old when I gave birth to my stillborn son Jacob. While my friends were out clubbing, I was home grieving. I grew up much faster than I wanted to in a way that I would not wish on anyone. Ever. It was 16 years ago. At that time in a smallish college town, the nursing staff didn't quite know how to handle me or what exactly to say. The extent of "reaching out" was giving me a pamphlet to read "when I felt up to it" and was ready. The first words out of my nurse's mouth when I delivered were, "Oh my goodness! He is so small. Are you sure you want to really see him?" She said it with horror in her voice.