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, understood.

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Today, we welcome guest writer, graphic designer and crafty part-time nomad, Skytimes, to Glow. Skytimes humbly shares her difficult story of abuse and loss for which we are so grateful. I have enjoyed her writing and perspective on single babylost parenting, grief, and survival. She blogs at Skytimes. —Angie

Once upon a time I was married and pregnant. And I have never felt so alone in my life. 

Newly married, we had moved to my country to start our life there but soon after my husband relapsed into  his addiction.

I was self-employed and the sole breadwinner, working all day, buying groceries on my way home, cooking, washing, cleaning and dodging bullets from a grumpy drug-infested (or withdrawal-ridden) man. All the while puking my brains out several times a day and tiptoeing around his anger and rage.

Then our son died in my womb around 33 weeks into the pregnancy. This propelled him into a full-on Idontgiveashit-relapse. I was induced and waited to give birth to my dead son for four long days while TheDad snuck off every day to get more drugs.

I went home. Food was rotting away on the kitchen counter, clothes and stuff were strewn across the room, babystuff everywhere. I grabbed a carton and packed all baby related stuff away right away, cleaned up the kitchen and cried.

A few hours later he left me, saying he couldn‘t always be there for me. He yelled for hours, packed up his belongings and left. I cried myself to sleep. When I woke up the next morning... my belly was as empty as the other half of my bed. Both my boys were gone. 

The word Alone had a new definition. 

There was no one to call: My family and friends were loaded with newborns, my best friends on holidays... there was no one. For a second I considered jumping from my window - a thought I‘d never had before (or after, for that matter).

The weeks ahead, he became more violent and unpredictable. I was scared for my life and at the same time I couldn‘t quite break from him. He was the only connection to my son, the only person that saw him and held him. Breaking up felt like severing the last tie to my one and only baby. Breaking up felt like betraying my son - when the only person I was betraying was myself.

Betraying myself from grieving, from freedom, from peace. He threatened suicide, he threatened murder-suicide.... I tiptoed and tried to make life better. I felt paralyzed and unable to make any move that might hurt the fragile state of "us". What I failed to see was that there was no "us" anymore... just two individuals in an abusive and miserable relationship.

We broke up a few months after Sky‘s birth. I got out the memory-package from the hospital and looked at Sky‘s photos for the first time. I bawled, I yelled, I sobbed - I finally started to grieve.

I realized I don‘t need TheDad in my life to be connected to my son. My life will always be Minus One but I will never be as alone anymore, because I got myself back.


Has anything delayed your grief? Did you ever have to wait to grieve because a situation or place felt unsafe, emotionally or physically? Were there any times that you or your partner's grieving and coping skills frightened you? How did you handle it?

Due to the nature of her relationship with TheDad, Skytimes uses a pseudonym in her on-line writing. In the comments, please feel free to do the same or utilize the anonymous posting options. If you are feeling unsafe, please call the US National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE. Internationally, there is information through the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence's International Organization Resources.

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Reader Comments (10)

My life will always be Minus One but I will never be as alone anymore, because I got myself back.


Skytimes, if you ever wonder why I love you, look no further than this post.

You really have been through it all

and survived.

Looking at the postcard from Bali - and your butterflies - daily.

xo CiM
March 5, 2013 | Unregistered CommenterCathy in Missouri
Thank you for writing, for sharing. This is so hard. I've only been on the edges of domestic violence, as it was a deeply loved older brother who was the addict and abused his spouse. It took years, as is often the case, for my sister-in-law to press charges and get out. It all ended well, eventually. My brother, fortunately, hated jail more then his wife and moved far away. And my sister-in-law became "just" my sister. :-) This was all twenty years ago or so. I know the scars it left on me and I wasn't hurt or in any fear for myself.

I am sorry for your pain of "alone". I wish your son could be with you and both of you happy and safe. I wish. I'm glad, though, that you found yourself and that when you did, you also found yourself in good company.
March 6, 2013 | Unregistered CommenterJill A.
Beautiful writing and a heartwrenching story of survival. Thank you for sharing. Glad that you have found yourself again. And just know, you truly never are alone...your son is always with you, and most likely pulled you back to life again. Blessings, peace, and love to you and your son.
March 6, 2013 | Unregistered CommenterJulie
Meant to say "HE" pulled you back to life again :-)
March 6, 2013 | Unregistered CommenterJulie
I've known you and your story for quite a while now, but there are extra details here today I did not know about. You have survived something truly awful. I'm so proud to call you a friend and to have you by my side on this journey of grief we find ourselves on.
Love to you, Skytimres. You know our babies will be forever linked.
March 7, 2013 | Unregistered CommenterSally
Like Sally, I knew parts of the your story but reading this was like a punch to the guts. I'm so sorry for all that you have been through and that you were so alone. The image of you waking up to an empty belly and an empty bed is just devastating. And being left tied by love for your son to somebody who scared you and treated for so badly. Oh my dear.

As Cathy says, you have been through it all and survived. You are an amazing woman and, as I've said before, I can't help but feel such deep regret for your little Sky, that he did not get to be raised by such a wonderful mama. But he knew you and your love. I only wish that it had been for a longer period of time, a lifetime.

Thank you for this beautiful piece of writing, sending love to you and remembering your son. I think of him whenever I see my flag.

Catherine xo
March 8, 2013 | Unregistered CommenterCatherine W
My grief was delayed by more grief ... it was like an onion ... I kept finding more grief. We're only now catching up with life again, and it's nearly 7 years since Freyja died, 5 years since Kees died, and 3.5 years since Jet died.

I'm glad you found you again, but I'm sad you'll always be Minus One.

March 8, 2013 | Unregistered CommenterMirne
I love you, P. Thank you for sharing. I am so sorry you went through all that heartbreak!
I am so proud of who you are. You are an amazing and inspirational woman!
All my love and hugs,
Sarah xoxo
March 8, 2013 | Unregistered CommenterSarah Porter
I grew up in an abusive situation that eventually took my sweet girl from me. She gave me the courage to get away but the grieving process was delayed, for five years I stayed in shock over everything that had happened. I sometimes still feel as if I've been robbed of the grieving process.
November 11, 2015 | Unregistered CommenterDes
I let my emotionally and financially abusive in laws interrupt my grieving. I say I let them because the alternative is intolerable.

We lived with them for about a year (in a house my partner was coerced into buying for them before we met) when our landlord handed his property over to an extremely negligent third party. My partner almost died because of the latter. He was struggling with depression before we moved in with them, and I had also let that keep me from grieving. But we were both finding our way. Then all of "this" happened. We came to the conclusion after attempting discussions and other methods with his parents that they were dangerous. We're both finding our way again.

I've personally found that it is especially difficult to talk about because of the shame aspect. And that leads to not grieving and depression. Like, what kind of parent are you that you would even find yourself in the presence of such a person or be in a situation where you and your child could be hurt? I don't want to talk about it with the people who look like they have perfect lives - or pretend that they do - because it just rubs more salt in the wounds. I can't even imagine what it would be like if we were really poor or living in a war zone or something.

My heart goes out to anyone, including the author, who's grieving a child in the presence of any kind of human cruelty (including poverty and racism) or natural disasters, etc.
December 28, 2015 | Unregistered CommenterJ. Rachel

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