Dear Friend, It’s been awhile since I’ve contacted you. I was busy. Busy surviving. Busy grieving. I have been more focused on my journey and me than anyone else’s. I had to. For my own and my family’s sake. Otherwise I might no longer be around. My child has died and even if/though this is […]
A Letter To The Friend Of A ‘New Normal’ Grieving Mother Read More »
Having published my book Grieving Parents: Surviving Loss as a Couple a year ago and being weeks away from having the book published in its German translation, I’ve been reminded of the vulnerability it brings: Having my name out there, my opinions, my story, my suggestions – they all leave room for criticism. The idea
Thank you, friend, who is still addressing Christmas cards by including A’Mya’s name.
You are one of those who get it. Seeing her name makes my heart sing and my face light up with a smile.
It’s been a long time since I last saw you, in fact it seems like an eternity. Still, I remember you. And I miss you, old me.
You had an air of realistic positivity. New things you approached with curiosity and delight. Even though I would say you were cautious, you also loved the thrill of skydiving or meeting new people. Your open and friendly nature was easy to be around and you generally enjoyed life.
I know you care for me and am so glad you’re reading this. I know that you can’t fully comprehend, nor would you want to, what it means to be a bereaved parent. Honestly, I’m still finding out for myself.
Exactly 5 years ago I conceived you and your sister. I remember it so clearly because I reread the journal entries from that time, describing every day in January. Given our journey to bring you into this world hadn’t happened through natural conception, we started assisted conception in the beginning of January and I decided to document our adventure. But this is a story to be told another time.
You are my ‘would-be’ child, you who would have turned five (four | three) last week. The children from Kindergarten would have celebrated with you in the morning. The rest of our family would have visited in the afternoon. We would be singing Happy Birthday to you and you would have impatiently ripped open your presents and whooped
Today, 4 years ago was the day you lived. You were born yesterday 4 years ago – and you passed on, tomorrow 4 years ago. It’s been 4 years, not a long time and still, quite some time has passed. Certain things have changed – and some have not. I miss you – and that won’t change.
