Tag: grief

The bright sun is depressing. The gray rain is a balm. Sometimes all I can think is I’velostmysonI’velostmysonI’velostmyson until I remember to keep breathing. To keep moving. To keep doing anything before the next wave surges over me again. But you were very sick. The woman at the funeral home gives me a hug before […]

It is easier to let you go, knowing—genetically speaking—you were never meant to be viable longterm.  It is much harder to let go of the future we planned with you. How we remodeled the entire upstairs to make way for your arrival. All the maternity clothes I bought. The new crib. The new carseat. The […]

In the beginning, I suspected you. Whispering things in my ear. Things like café. Things like chocolate. Things I would never indulge on. The last thing you said to me was not a whisper, but a seed. Planted in my dreams. Blossoming on the tip of my tongue. You chose your name, Gabriel, when you […]

You say I was not excited for your baby. I had all her gifts picked out as soon as I saw your text. I was ready to be your sister in the dark month that follows the birth of a child. I was ready to be her aunt. My husband has been told you feel […]

They tell me to rest. I run. Until blood clots soak between my legs. They tell me to schedule a follow-up appointment. What else is there left to say? I have lost my baby. My son is gone. Has been gone. Gone. I know these things happen. How many times have I been asked to […]