My eyes are still brown, deep-set like my grandmother’s, and I still have her upper lip, and chin. I never grew more than the five feet I reached in high school. I still prefer to dress in solid colors. Long pants almost year-round, since I still don’t like to shave my legs. I wear sensible shoes, brown or black. I’ve worn the same coat through more than a dozen winters now. So I wouldn’t blame anyone for thinking, from afar, that I am the same girl.
Read MorePlease welcome Megan, our guest writer today. Megan's son Anthony was born in July and died on September 16, 2015. She writes, 'I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy with a rare heart defect whose imperfect heart made my heart whole.'
Read MoreI'm past my shelter now, rejoining January, already in progress. I'm back with the whole bloody gamut of emotions. I understand that each of them is a reflection of a different facet of my love for my son, and so I own them—this is the way it goes. Though I still wish anxiety would bugger off. The anniversary, the birthday, they are just around the next bend in this road. Ready or not, here they come. But I think I'm ready.
Read MoreThis is a beautiful life, Lydie. It is a life where I have held you in my arms, if only for a few hours. It is a life that carries your name and your spirit. It is a life that holds unimaginable beauty in the warm smile of your brother, in the depths of your sister’s blue eyes, and from the immeasurable love for our Christmas baby.
Read MoreFirst lady Jane / wife of the fourteenth president of the United States / did you know Hawthorne called you "that death's head"? / Gloomy, lacking resilience, prone to melancholy and deep depression / I wonder how many took the time to know / the texture of your love and your grief.
Read MoreToday's guest post is from Jessica Wilson: 'The next time around, treasure each moment. This is all the time you will have with her. Don’t waste it. When it’s gone, it will all feel like a dream and like you lived in an alternate universe. So sing from the rooftops during your next pregnancy, dance like nobody’s watching with her inside of your belly, and let her hear your bellowing laugh. Don’t spend your days scared or fearful. This will be your only time with her and you need to spend every moment loving this baby before she goes. And when she does go—I, my friend, your after self, will be waiting for you to teach you the lessons of pain, love, and what it means to live.'
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
: on the bookshelf
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: how to help a friend through babyloss
: how to plan a baby's funeral
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