The loss of a child is a devastating grief. Mothers often grieve silently. If we have other living children, our lives are still full with their needs. If we do not, the world does not see us as a mother. Either way, we are often urged—even by well-meaning friends or family—to keep our grief quiet and hidden. But our love is enormous. So we cry in the shower or wail into the closet. We mourn alone: in the car, on a run, in the pew or at the grave. We learn to put on a bright face, because the world cheers bravery. We rarely get the chance to sit with our grief and stare it full in the face. To learn from the lessons our love still waits to teach us. To bring our whole selves to God—in love, in anger, in doubt, in hope. To discover more of the mystery of faith within the pain and paradox of loss. To honor the holy, hard, heartbreaking truth that we will always be a mother of the child we lost, even if no one else knows their name. Over the years I have listened … [Read more...] about An Oasis for the Grieving
grief
a month that changed the world
One month ago, I was in the hospital. The same hospital where my baby girls were born four years earlier. The same hospital where they each died in my arms, days later. One month ago, I was holding our newborn son. The same baby I pleaded to God to keep safe as I spent day after day, week after week, in the hospital with preeclampsia. The same baby who wasn't due to be born until this week. By the time I left the hospital for good, my world had been turned upside down. We had a premature baby in the back seat. We had spent the anniversaries of our daughters' deaths in grief's ground zero. We had left our lives uprooted, torn away from home and work without warning. I couldn't make sense of how birth and death had broken me open all over again. It felt like too much to process, on top of a scary delivery and a slow recovery that left my heart literally sick. But even then, I had no idea what was coming next. None of us did. . . . What seems like a lifetime ago, … [Read more...] about a month that changed the world
the wonder of wrong
Remember that manuscript I told you about? The draft of a memoir, the story of our daughters. I wrote tens of thousands of words in the years after they died, words I never shared with a soul. Then I shoved them in a drawer and plowed into another book, two. Anything to hold off on the hardest story I had to tell. I pulled that manuscript out last year. On Instagram I told you how I dusted it off, skimmed through, heart sinking, and thought: ugh. No good. All wrong. I decided I had to let it go, trash it again, start over fresh. So I did. Started clean last spring with a brand new document, brand new folder, brand new ambition, brand new determination. Guess what? Wrong again. Turns out I couldn't read my own words with true eyes. One night in prayer, I told God I was ready to jump in and start this brand-new book—and clear as day, I heard one word. No. No? NO?! What do you mean NO? I was ready for this, I protested. I had a plan for starting anew, and everything … [Read more...] about the wonder of wrong
the pitter-patter
Their feet crush me. Tiny toes curling, ancient reflex. Baby socks lost in the dryer like doll clothing. Toddler tiptoes to reach the sink. Preschool slip-ons for circle time. Sport shoes for season after season—cleats, sneakers, boots. I know their feet intimately. Kiss them at diaper changes, sweet antidote to stink. Bathe them in bubbles and dry them with duck towels. Wrestle on socks and shoes for years and years. Corral each kid and clip twenty nails, fingers and toes. Motherhood in daily details, mundane math, rote routine. But I never remember their shoe sizes; I am always shocked at the store, at their growth. When we brought our second son home from the hospital, his big brother’s feet startled me. Suddenly giant, boy-ish, behemoth. Overnight they had soared in size. I stared at his feet, disbelieving as he crawled into my lap to get a closer look at the baby. How had he turned into a toddler when I wasn’t looking? Half blessing, half betrayal. Today he steals my … [Read more...] about the pitter-patter
