I’ve been pretty quiet lately. I keep sitting down to write and coming up blank on what to write about – and to be honest, feeling a little guilty. Why guilty? Because, overall, things are going well. I feel pretty good most days. Happy. Purposeful.
I don’t know what she looks like, but I see her everywhere. I see her darting in and out among the kids off to school. I see her in the nighttime, tucked away in bed. I see her beside me in the car – some
I always thought that if I worked hard enough and had a solid plan in life, everything would work out. Life was something to be managed and arranged. I believe that if I wanted something badly enough, I could make it happen. Life didn’t work
There are so many things about my daughters’ lives, my sweet babies who both died before birth, that I simply don’t remember. It pains me to admit that. So many loss moms talk about due dates and “angelversaries” and the day they found out they
Someone recently asked me if there was any one thing, one most important thing, I would ask of people around the death and grief of my daughters’ deaths. I was surprised at how easily my answer came – there are so many things I could
My daughter, Grace, was stillborn. One day she was growing and healthy and beautifully alive inside my womb, then without warning she was simply gone. Her heart beat until it didn’t. I always wonder what I was doing the moment that her heart stopped and
For me, the holiday season starts with Halloween. It begins when the costumes and candy and pumpkins begin to fill the shelves and stores. Along with it, comes that dull aching and longing for the missing pieces of my life that will never be.
It has been 14 years since my daughter, Grace was born still and 9 years since her sister, Lily joined her. Life has ever been the same. I am not the same. I think it’s safe to say that this kind of loss changes all of
I was once asked to describe myself in one word. The best I could come up with was: Contradictory. Trying to neatly fit me into a specific label or box is somewhat of an exercise in futility and frustration! I am a mother, yet I
I miss her most in the autumn. My sweet Grace. It’s not the day she was born still or her due date. It’s not when I discovered I was pregnant. It’s not any of those anniversary dates that can sneak up and drown my heart