I want to touch more on what it is to bring a “rainbow baby” into the world. It requires you to see past the devastation and wreckage, the triggers, the emptiness, and the bleakness of loss. It requires you to be able to recognize that even in death’s finiteness, something else can be born. And [...]
“You are not a resolution to hard times, nor the means to the end of my grief. You are not here simply for the purpose of making me whole again. Listen to me when I tell you, your purpose is inherently your own and is not tied to repairing me. You were not born with [...]
Today, he is one year older. Six years ago he came into this world having saved both of us from the bleakness of an unpurposed, unfulfilled, painful space we had been spinning through life in. You see, Rowan was a surprise. Had we written our story ourselves, children weren’t in it. That initial panic, that [...]
Dear Jordan, This morning, your son died. Right now it feels hopeless. As you hold your lifeless baby in your arms, silently pleading for a miracle that you know won’t come. You’re aching, screaming inside. Every tear that falls on his still face feels like a piece of your soul trying to seep life back [...]
Rowan turns 6 two weeks from today. Lately he’s been remarking a LOT about missing his brother. The fact that my 6 year old child already has a part of his story that includes death, breaks my heart. I'm thankful that our efforts to continue being transparent about our own grief as parents, and making [...]
I want to take a moment to thank all of you who read my last post and we’re not only so supportive over the past several days, but understood and honored how triggering and devastating it all was. It’s been a very difficult undertaking to move past this setback, but we are trying our best. [...]
This week tested me more than I’ve been tested since Sloan died. My emotions and anxiety were so triggered that I was physically ill from it. One of the worst parts was not being able to discuss any of it until it was over. I was struggling to cope, and I couldn't say a word. [...]
