why, why, why
/it’s not productive to think about
but sometimes it’s important to go over it all again,
like a perverted reassurance
that she died and it’s not my fault or her fault or their fault
it’s not productive to think about
but sometimes it’s important to go over it all again,
like a perverted reassurance
that she died and it’s not my fault or her fault or their fault
I wanted to remember what I felt when the nurse placed him in my arms for those short few minutes after giving birth. I wanted to remember how smooth his skin was and how soft his hair felt under my fingers when I would gently rub his head. I wanted to remember his eyes and how much he already looked like his daddy. I wanted to remember the happiness I felt to be his mother.
Read MoreI imagine that’s your voice talking to me. I imagine I’m taking direction from you now. That you are my parent and I am your child. Is that weird? Who cares? Whatever works on any given day. I miss you, Levi. I can’t see you now but I trust that you are here.
Read MoreI am reaching but you have drifted away. Time seems to stand still and while the world keeps turning for others mine has stopped entirely. Time no longer exists in this place.
Read MoreThe previous owners lost a child. The woman who lived here is a social worker and specializes in infant and child loss, which we only found out after we signed the sale contract and googled her name. I wonder if they lost a child, my husband and I said to each other then, and our suspicions were confirmed by the handyman who stopped by to remove a memorial stone from the back meadow. Eerie, that connection. The space readied for our exact sorrow.
Read MoreGradually time moved forward and I began to participate in my life again. Slowly, I began to feel. When I previously felt hollow and numb, I now began to function on more than just auto-pilot. I tried to be more empathetic to other people’s situations and I tried to be kinder and less judgemental. Although I still sought out sadness, I tended to do it at more manageable times, perhaps more secretly and alone. Instead of crying in public, I would save my tears for when I was in bed at night while the rest of my household slept.
Read MoreBereaved parents of lost babies and potential of all kinds: come here to share the technicolour, the vividness, the despair, the heart-broken-open, the compassion, and the other side of getting through this mess called grief.
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Parents of lost babies and potential of all kinds: come here to share the technicolour, the vividness, the despair, the heart-broken-open, the compassion we learn for others, having been through this mess — and see it reflected back at you, acknowledged and understood.
Thanks to photographer Xin Li and to artist Stephanie Sicore for their respective illustrations and photos.
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: not ttc | infertility after loss
: parenting after loss
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: how to help a friend through babyloss
: how to plan a baby's funeral
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