“I noticed a tall teenaged boy there and thought it was strange considering he looked too young to be a dad. Then it hit me.”
- Love What Matters
- Grief
“I noticed a tall teenaged boy there and thought it was strange considering he looked too young to be a dad. Then it hit me.”
“It may not look like celebrating in the traditional sense, as typically that doesn’t involve cemeteries and tears, but it will be our own little version of celebrating the day.”
“We sat anxiously discussing nursery themes, names, and how long it was taking. My husband was ready with his phone to record our baby’s heartbeat, but the tech kept asking odd questions. ‘Is something wrong?’ I see my husband put away his phone and the tech goes to get a nurse for a ‘second opinion.'”
“It felt hard to breathe that week. Breathing reminded me of the breaths my babies never took. Three babies I would never meet.”
“I’ve lost her many times over the years, not just on the day she died. But I’ve also found her, too.”
“The first Mother’s Day I experienced post placement, I felt hollow. No one said a word. I didn’t communicate that Mother’s Day would be a trigger for my grief, but somehow this 19-year-old boy knew and validated those feelings in a tangible way.”
“It was cool to see someone offer a treasured family recipe as a final gift to the world. I had to try it.”
“Death didn’t make me love him differently or less, in fact, it may make me love him even just a little bit more.”
“I remember holding his big, hairy hand, rubbing his big, hairy, navy ship-tattooed forearm, his head on my chest while I rocked him as if the roles were reversed and he was my child and I was his parent.”
“My baby was so very still inside me. I wasn’t crying, I was just in shock and rubbing my belly.”