Living with the loss of stillbirth and learning to live in the sunshine of our new normal.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014


A whole nother year without you. Those are hard words to write. A whole year of sunrises and sunsets. Every time the sun sets, another day has gone by without my little girl.
 Some mornings, I wake u p and I'm confused and surprised that you're not here. This life that we have now, you belong in it. And you're not here.Sometimes I feel you, but more often, I think I just create an extra space for you in my head, just in case. Every sunrise for seven years, I have looked for you. In every pink and purple cloud, in every burst of the sun.I want to shake the skies until they release you. I search for your face, even still- it's almost like you're lost and I am still looking for you, hoping you'll come home. I feel like you're growing up somewhere. Going to school, having sleepovers with friends. I can picture so clearly the life you should have had here with us. But you're not here, and I'm not there. Some other world is raising my daughter.
 I've spent a lot of time the last three years being angry. I pushed it back for so long because I know it wont change anything. But I've let it wash over me sometimes, and I am sorry for that. It makes me wonder if you would even recognize me now. I am so different than I was then. I see the world in different colors. Sounds are not the same. Everything is louder now. Would you know who I am? Would you remember me amid all of my new crazy? I'm in here somewhere.There is this hollow inside of me, this empty space that is reserved for the rise and fall of the insane sadness that is all I have left. The empty space that I fill with the wonderings of why you couldn't take your first step. It's filled with all of the breaths you didn't take. Sometimes, I wonder if you took me with you.
  Those are the nights and the days and the weeks that my heart is pounding through my chest, shattering every piece of myself that has grown back together in mismatched pieces. Those are the nights I never want to sleep again and all I want to do is sleep. The days when I want to be alone and I need to be surrounded.
  Some days I feel like I'm stepping over the memory- just to make it  through the day, I walk past what I don't want to remember. Push the confusion away and keep walking. But then I hit the wall and there's no door and there's nowhere else to go. I fall to the floor and the confusion is twice as big and twice as loud. Sometimes the weather changes and the sun is shining on the snow and all I can see is your casket in the shade of the pine tree. The sun is blinding against the blue sky and the winter will never end again. These are the hardest days of my life, and they happen again and again. Every year without you.
 But there are moments that I can see clearly. When your brother is asleep, i see your face. When your sister laughs, I hear your voice. Even if these memories aren't real, I will hold onto them until I can hold onto you.

Wednesday, February 12, 2014


Still, nearly seven years later,  my heart is screaming. Why.  What did I do.  Why. Why.  What did I do.  Tonight,  all I want to think about is her.  I want to close my eyes and hold my breath until I can remember her smell.  The way she felt in my arms.  The way she felt in my body.  The life that came before her death. I want more.  I want photographic evidence she was here.  I want to plan a sleepover for her giggling friends.  I want to hold her hand.  I want to hear her voice.  I want to feel her breath in my hair.  I want.  I want.  Why.  Why.  Why.  Still,  Why.