My friend, Monica, is one of those people that radiates whimsy and instantly makes you feel better
when you’re around her. She has this energy about her, this never-ending well of insatiable joy that I am
desperate to tap into. She makes you feel like you can do anything and makes me laugh ridiculously
hard. I adore this woman; she’s one of my most favorite humans.
Monica is a powerhouse of a consultant in her professional life and thank the dear Lord above, she lends
her expertise to The Beautiful Scar Project as our Vice President. Whenever I’m feeling overwhelmed or
frustrated she reminds me of a simple phrase that, for some reason, I can’t put into practice unless she
lovingly reminds me. “Many hands make light work,” she’ll gently remind me when she can tell my to-do
list is insane and I’m beginning to drown. She believes this with her whole heart and is always looking to
identify ways to get other people involved at #teamtbsp so that we get through all of the things and
hold on to our sanity.
I’ve been thinking of her words this week because I’m feeling beyond overwhelmed with all of the task
lists I have going at both TBSP and at home. It’s a lot, y’all. I hate saying that out loud because I’ve
become someone who absolutely abhors saying “oh, just crazy busy” when someone asks me how I am.
I realized it had become a defense mechanism. I hate that I can justify my lack of productivity or
over inflate my sense of importance by hiding behind my “busyness”. Of course, I really am busy, as we
all are. There are never enough hours in the day, never enough items checked off the to-do list, and a
never ending barrage of requests of one’s time. It can feel isolating as you work diligently to get through
all of the things, be everything to everyone, and feel that no matter how hard you’re working, it’s never
enough. Many hands make light work, Monica reminds me. She reminds me of this (more than she
should have to, honestly) because she wisely knows that one person can’t do it all. They can’t possibly
meet every deadline, everyone’s demands, and care for everyone entrusted to them without help.
I’m a big believer in community; a group of people who come together based on commonality or shared
experiences. Having a tribe, a village, so to speak, is invaluable. Whether it’s to run a business/nonprofit
or helping out with parenting or getting through this hard thing called life, a tribe or a village make the
busyness of modern life bearable. Trouble is, our modern society also likes to make it seem like you’re
doing it all wrong if you’re not doing it all yourself. If you don’t wear the most flawless outfit, while
making organic baby food, fashioning your own wooden toys to play with your perfectly dressed and
coifed 2.5 children, and throw Pinterest worthy parties while serving organic, gluten free, vegan, dairy
free dishes to your equally flawless outfit wearing friends…. Well, Sis, what are you even DOING with
your life?? I kid.
I’ll admit I’ve bought into the lie time and time again that I need to conquer all of life’s challenges
myself and never raise my hand to ask for help. Except, now I have Monica in my life. My dear, sweet,
boundary-loving, always asking for help, Monica; who reminds me that I’m not supposed to do it alone.
Many. Hands. Make. Light. Work! The same is true for grief. Grief should not be done in isolation, but
rather in community. Your tribe, your village (or in my case, my grieving mommy mafia) is where you
should be able to bring your grief as you do with everyday life stuff. Community is a “feeling of
fellowship with others, as a result of sharing common attitudes, interests and goals.” It’s why I refer to
the other grieving parents I’ve met and/or worked with through the support groups I’ve run, events I’ve
attended or through TBSP as parents in the infant loss community.
Warriors, we are a community of parents who have endured the unimaginable. We are a community of
people who navigate their new normal while attempting to re-integrate in their former life. We are a
community who lift each other up as we collect the pieces of our shattered hearts, who shine light on
other’s darkened path, and cling to hope by our fingernails. We listen with our whole hearts, we lean
into each other’s pain, and we keep going. Many hands make light work.
I am in no way suggesting that grief work, is light work. It isn’t. It is the heaviest shit I’ve ever carried in
my life. However, as I look around at my tribe, my village – those who have been there from the
beginning and those who joined my journey later – I see many hands that have lent me their courage,
their stories, their struggles, their victories, their light, their good days, their hope and have made the
burdens I bear just a little bit lighter. A little bit brighter.
Many hands make light work, Grief Warriors. Lean on your tribe. “But Kim, what if I don’t have a tribe?”
you may ask. You do, my sweet friend. Lean into the pregnancy and infant loss community. Lean into the
grieving parents, you meet along the way and allow them to lean into you. And at the very least- lean in
here. Here, at The Beautiful Scar Project, you will find a tribe of people who see your grief, see your
pain, know your heartache, and are here to help you carry it. At #teamtbsp we refer to ourselves as
tiny, but mighty. We have outstretched hands, and open hearts, and have many hands to help you
lighten the load you carry. You are welcome, here. You are loved beyond measure, here. Your grief is
validated and supported, here.
Plus, we have Monica on our team, so no matter how many times I forget and try to do it on my own I
have her to remind me that I don’t have to. And she’ll remind you too, Dear Ones. Many hands make