This One Is Serious: Find Your Anchor

Find Your Anchor box

Today, my box arrived from Find Your Anchor. Find Your Anchor is not really a monthly subscription, but it is a box, and it’s the first thing I ordered. I wanted this blog to be kind of light-hearted, fun (for me, anyway, with all the surprises coming in the mail!), and informative. This post will not be all of those things.

To explain why I ordered this box first, and why I’m talking about this box first, I’m going to have to give you a little bit of personal background. It isn’t fun; I’m sorry.

I am on bed rest right now, which should have been obvious from the title, and from my first posts. I am on bed rest because a little over three years ago, my fiancé and I decided to have a baby. Almost three years ago exactly, I lost the first of our babies. We kept trying… and I kept losing them, often near the end of the first trimester. So many times I was counting the days when we found out the heartbeat was gone—in x number of days our baby will be ‘safe.’ It didn’t happen. Almost two years ago, I was on bed rest, and I got to the second trimester! We thought our daughter Isabella was going to make it, then we found out she had Trisomy 18. I was almost 16 weeks when I felt her die, and I delivered her a week later. It ripped my heart into pieces, and I didn’t even want to breathe anymore. But somehow, I kept breathing, and we kept trying. After 10 losses, I am pregnant again. This time feels different. I hope it is different, because without hope, I don’t know how to keep breathing.

Some of the cards…

I cannot tell you how much I wish someone had given me this box when I lost my daughter. I wish someone had given me this box at any point in the last three years. I needed this box. I needed this box when I was a teenager. I needed this box when I left my abusive marriage. There are days that I still need this box. Life is hard. Who among us can say that they never needed a little help, a reminder of why they need to keep going?

I cried when I opened the box. The first thing I saw was a sticky note someone had written.

I don’t know who wrote this, but I believe they really do care.

There are so many wonderful things in this box: posters, a bracelet, a sticker, a pin, a list of resources, information, a beautiful deck of cards—not playing cards—full of reasons to continue living (summer afternoons, planting a seed, coming home, crunching leaves, crispy egg rolls, a smile from a stranger, family vacations, taking the scenic route, picnics), and hope. There is nothing heavy-handed about this box, nothing religious, nothing telling the recipient that they are selfish or should feel guilt about their struggle. The message is simple and necessary: you are loved and you would be missed.

Everything in the box.

I am not ready to give my box up. But I want to help spread their message. This organization gives boxes to people in need, and works on donations. They ask for $25 a box, but do not require it. I will be asking my school district to buy as many of these boxes as I can talk them into. I see students who could use this box regularly. There are so many different ways I can imagine this box being used in a school setting: students could ask counselors to provide boxes anonymously for struggling friends, counselors could supply them to those in need, displays could be set up in safe places (library, counseling office, student coffee shop) with invitations for students to pass the cards to friends and directions for those who want to order boxes… I don’t know. I know this box isn’t magic. Unless magic is opening a box and feeling love, kindness, and hope. Because that is what I felt when I opened my box—and that is exactly what I needed.

The website.

Please… support this organization any way you can. Buy a box for someone you love. Leave a box somewhere for a stranger in need. Do whatever works, but don’t do nothing, because someone you know needs this box. Go to today.

Published by CupcakeMomma

I am a mother and teacher, living on the coast. I’ve been dealing with anxiety, grief, and loss, but am trying to find my way forward. I love fog, books, redwoods, hammocks, blankets with lots of textures, the ocean... oh, and surprise packages!

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