I drive my husband to the train and wave at my neighbors as they deposit their kids on the bus. The neighbors smile and wave back, but their smiles are tinged with sadness. Instead of thinking, What a sweet young couple!, I’m sure they’re thinking, That poor, poor sweet young couple.
Read MoreSix years and it’s all come full circle. I remember it all and the tinge of sadness that constantly lingered has erupted into a volcano. I find myself doing the usual retracing of steps, reading of emails, counting of days. I can go on and on about what was, and it still won’t change what is. So, the tears remain at the base of my eyes and the ache grows inside me, because surely it has been long enough? Surely.
Read MoreKate’s piece on positivity—and the ceremonious celebration of gratitude four days away—places me in a strange cusp, a crack in the veil of pristine white we are asked to gently wrap around us. As though positivity or gratitude is going to whitewash our lives into becoming those pretty pictures we put up on Facebook and Instagram. As though losing a baby is one of those elastic springs one can bounce back from.
Read MoreI am hibernating. In summer, in broad daylight. In the middle of the week, in the throes of work. When the world is buzzing around me like a bee in spring, all I want to be is a neatly-curled squirrel in winter. The world is spinning, and no matter how much we try, it’s still impossible to turn time back or sprint it forward. In the middle of all this, in a thorny cage of prickly ‘aspects’ trying to make me care, I am stuck. I am dumbstruck, even as I gently flap my wings and blink my timeless eyes.
Read MoreI was told grief would come in waves; remain messy and untamed, and I should welcome it. It wouldn’t always feel this dark and heavy, but there wasn’t a timeline, and it wasn't a linear process. Mental health professionals didn’t give validation to the infamous “five steps of grief” anymore, so there was no pressure to evaluate myself. I should just feel it, talk about it, and know that it was normal.
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 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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: parenting after loss
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