Who Am I and What Does it Mean to Jacquify?

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My name is Jacqui. When I was a toddler, I discovered that giving people things made them happy. I eagerly presented guests with couch cushions, as my sister explained, “You don’t get to keep that.” As I got older, I turned to creativity. I made gift baskets for friends, wrote stories for my nieces, threw parties, and made photobooks for family. I read books about nutrition to nourish my loved-ones. Sometimes I would just try to make a tired-looking cashier smile. Some people contribute to the world through their advocacy, leadership, or expertise. I wasn’t built for that, so I contributed through small acts of kindness.  We started calling this Jacquifying.

My world was simple then. Jacquifying gave me a sense of meaning and control. It wasn’t until I was the one who struggled with life that I realized what it really means to Jacquify – and why I needed to receive it as much as give it.

It started with infertility. My husband and I spent 2.5 years waiting, worrying, and trying fertility clinics, while watching other people we loved get pregnant. It hurt to try to Jacquify them, which added a sense of guilt to my pain. I realized that life wasn’t really in my control, and neither were my emotions. Eventually, we got the best gift ever – twins!

When we brought home our beautiful boy and girl, Jake and Robin, I felt deeply in love and also completely helpless. I was exhausted and pinned to the couch, nursing almost constantly. It was incredibly hard to ask for the amount of help I needed. And I couldn’t help my friends. I couldn’t run over with food when someone was sick. I could barely make food for myself! There was no Jacquification. Only survival.

As the twins first birthday approached, I was gaining independence and looking forward to being able to contribute to my community again. Then my son, Jake, got sick. Meningitis was discovered too late, and he died the day before his first birthday. Infertility had taught me that I couldn’t control life, but I had always thought that the world was a good place. I had a one-year-old to look after and a one-year-old to grieve for. More and more people shared their own grief stories with me and I discovered how many other people were grieving. You couldn’t Jacquify that. A gift basket couldn’t brighten the darkness that I now saw in the world. I couldn’t even smile at a stranger. A casual, “Are you having a great summer?” from a stranger broke my heart. I did what I had to do to take care of my daughter, and nothing more. Survival mode continued.

But people out there were helping me: Raising money, attending my son’s funeral, babysitting, making meals, and being there to talk. I was being Lindsay-ified, and LouAnne-ified, and Sarah-ified, Tish-ified and Cliff-ified and Kerry-ified. I was Them-ified by a network of good people in a support system I didn’t even know I had. And though no gift basket could brighten my darkness, it could show me that love was out there waiting for me, and ease the practical burdens of living. Though life seemed cruel, so many people in it were truly good.

As my grief progressed, I realized there was someone who needed some serious Jacquification. Me. I started to write stories again. But this time, for Jake and Robin.  Jake could listen from Heaven, and Robin could listen from Earth. It made me feel like I was still taking care of Jake. I made photobooks again. But this time, about Jake and Robin’s life together, so that toddler Robin could still feel connected to her brother. I organized parties. But this time, to raise money for a charity started in Jake’s memory. I nourished my soul, reading books to help me spiritually connect with Jake. And I didn’t do these things alone. People Them-ified it all, helping me edit stories, plan out my photo books, gather donations, advise me spiritually, and babysit so I could get it all done. Even complete strangers helped me with projects after hearing my story. I realized that Jacquifying isn’t something I do by myself. It isn’t something I do to people or for people. It is the sum of what people can accomplish with a network of love behind them.

Then I had another set of twins. It was all the work of the first set, but with grief on top of it. Survival mode continued. As I started to crawl out of survival mode, the pandemic started and I was right back to it. After five straight years of merely surviving, our “do the bare minimum” living was starting to feel like normal. Every once in a while, I could still do something creative and feel like myself, but it was few and far between. As I talked to friends, I realized that they were also in survival mode, and they felt as bad about it as I did. Our expectations of parenting were so different from what we actually ended up doing or how we were feeling. Giving ourselves permission to be in survival mode, even if it went on for years, was a huge relief. We could do more in the future. Even if it ended up being in our retirement.

I realize that our experience of tragedy was buffered by our privileged lives. We had jobs that allowed us time off to grieve. My husband continued working, through the pandemic. We didn’t have to deal with racism or discrimination. We are grateful for how lucky we were in so many aspects of our lives, no matter how unlucky we felt to lose our precious boy.

I have started a new stage of my life in which my kids are sleeping through the night and I have some daycare. This has allowed me the time and brain-space to start this blog. This website is about surviving grief, but it’s also about fun and silliness. By sharing my Jacquified projects (accumulated over many years), I hope to inspire readers to “them-ify” themselves and each other. We all have different gifts. You know best what will work for you. You might be in a place to you-ify other people, or you might need to you-ify yourself. Or maybe you just need to survive right now, and you will you-ify in the future. But in the spirit of a toddler offering couch cushions, I offer up my creations and insights for your use, entertainment, and inspiration. Welcome to Jacquify.