Pure motherly love

Pure motherly love

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.

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Arriving

Arriving

The 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.

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Remembering my innocence

Remembering my innocence

Every time I see a pregnancy announcement on Facebook from new parents, I see the flood of congratulatory comments. I would be lying if I did not say I was jealous of the innocence held by these expecting parents and their families. I feel no desire to say “congrats” but instead to warn them: did you know that your completely healthy and normal pregnancy can end in a shit show with your baby dying in your arms? Mood killer.

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