Nearly five years later, we’re still climbing. Still learning how to carry both the weight of our loss and the joy of raising our two living children.

From the moment I said hello and goodbye all at once, I made a promise that I would honor her memory with everything I had.

Sharing my son's story and listening to others' narratives provided a sacred space for me to unravel, only to gradually piece myself back together. In the gentle embrace of shared experiences, I found the strength to confront the depth of my pain.

I often say that the support I experienced and continue to experience from this community of loss moms has been a life raft. Without it, I may have drowned in a sea of my own sorrow and tears.

After attending the Return to Zero BIPOC Pregnancy and Infant Loss Support Group I became very close with a couple of the other women who attended and have since gone through pregnancy after loss and now parenting after loss with two of them. I consider them sisters and know we will be lifelong friends.

Even though DJ is no longer here physically, he is ALWAYS here in spirit, because I carry him with me. He is my motivation. He lifts me up on the days I want to quit. He inspires me to help others.

The act of volunteering helped me heal from my own trauma by reshaping the need to bare my story as something that serves others–as well as RTZ HOPE’s mission–with people who might be too afraid to reach out for help.

These women spoke my innermost thoughts, they normalized ALL of the things happening to and around me. I listened to their stories and grieved with them. I realized these were bravest, most compassionate, loving mothers.