For everyone grieving, everyone struggling, everyone surviving, there’s usually one thing that’s harder to do than anything else. One time of day where you can’t help but cry. One day of year when getting out of bed just isn’t an option. One memory that will always bring that tightness to your tummy, and slowly close your lungs.

There are a lot of hard things when you’re a grieving mother, living without your baby. There are a lot of ‘firsts’ you miss, a lot of days you dread, a lot of ‘what ifs’ that roll around your mind.

But for me, the hardest thing, from the day I lost him and every day since, has been driving. Driving alone, without my baby in the backseat. No handing sippy cups over the seat. No hearing “mom, mom, mom” from behind me. No silly laughter when I sing too loud or off key. Just me. Me alone.

But what I’m realizing on this journey of parenting an angel in Heaven, is that the hardest thing can become the most comforting.

I still cry when I’m in the car. But now I choose to take this time and talk to him. And I know with every ounce of my heart and soul, that no matter my destination, no matter how fast I’m going, or what is on my mind, my sweet baby is listening.

I tell him all the good stuff. I tell him all the exciting and wonderful things that Mommy is doing here on Earth while he plays in Heaven. I tell him how much I miss him every minute and how much I still, and will always, love him.

I talk to him, and that eases the burden of the emptiness. I don’t like driving, or being in the car alone. But it’s getting just a little easier knowing my baby is with me, even if there’s no carseat behind me. And having him there, in any way I can get him, helps make it just a little less hard.

Because once you’ve mastered the hardest thing, everything else is just gravy.