We have been blessed to be able to make connections with other friends and local families that have experienced losses as well. The network and support of their experiences connects us in a family bond that is hard to describe.
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I was only prepared to expect the future with my babies, not expecting the reality of losing them both.
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I’m here now without her, but I still carry her with me. All of the plans we made are unfolding, and instead of her being in my arms, she’s brought along in my mind.
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And then there's grief itself which feels a lot like standing with your back to the ocean. You’re never sure when a wave will hit or how big it will be.
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Parenting your dead child is like painting by numbers but there are no numbers to paint by… All the rules and directions have been lost. How does one know what color comes next?
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There is a light flickering somewhere inside of every bereaved mother, even on the darkest days, that is fueled by faint pieces of who we are. That light may be dim, but it can shine brightly again.
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Once you are able to take some deeper breaths, you may notice life isn’t moving past you so much, but life is beginning to move in you. In a new way. No, nothing will ever be the same, nor after your loss would you want it to be.
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I find peace in the natural world that my daughter, like a rose bud that never got to bloom, was still a part of the bush, part of the garden and her lifetime however brief in the grand scheme of the universe was as important as any other being.
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I realized I was done waiting for others to heal me. My childhood was trauma-filled, and I believed that my healing needed to begin here first. It was important to me to be extra gentle with myself through this process. I welcomed all of my emotions. I cried when I needed to and laughed as much as possible. I see my inner-child as my true spirit.
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I wish you the very best as you trek through your grief journey. I hope to see you on the other side of grief, in your own timing. And that one day you will find the courage to use your voice not only to share your story, but to also be a light for a mother following in your footsteps. That is how we will illuminate the pathway for others and be able to move our baby loss community forward.
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In the beginning, the colors were gray and dull, with shades of pitch black and searing white blinding me from all other colors. But the colors are brighter now, full and vibrant. The birdsong is louder in my ears. When color and sound returned, they were brighter than I remembered, more beautiful.
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Do we ever actually “heal” from the death of our child? I would definitely say no. But we integrate their life and death into our own being, into our own story, into our identity. And we emerge with hope, a sign of life. A sign that their life wasn’t in vain. A sign that their life, albeit short, has propelled us towards something more beautiful, something more meaningful, something more profound. And I dare say that this may be one of the most precious gifts our children could have given us.
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Everything remains so much brighter, so much darker, so much more beautiful and more terrible than I could have ever imagined. But I still love him, and seeing the world with the eyes he gave me, learning the song of his silence he gave me, is part of how I show him that.
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Maybe that’s where our hope lies -- in this journey, in choosing to be broken, taking in the pain, grieving alone and with others, letting the loss in, and transforming the relationship with our loss children become a part of us in that unique and personal way.
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