It has been three years since my precious daughter, Lily, was stillborn. My heart feels the weight of both happiness and profound sadness, two emotions that coexist in my life.
I still yearn for her. There are moments when tears come unexpectedly, like when I see a little girl, around three years old, with a ponytail and a floral dress in a store. She reaches for her younger sibling’s hand, who is nearly two—the same age as my living child, Mia. As they walk past, tears well up in my eyes. That could be Lily and Mia, I think. Even in the moments I believe I am fine, I still miss her.
My love for Lily remains unchanged; only her physical presence is gone. I wish more people understood that grief is not a sign of weakness but an expression of love—a natural response to the loss of connection and the dreams that vanished with her.
In the early days after my loss, some would refer to me as brave. Brave for continuing to live, brave for facing each dark day without her, and brave for expressing my sorrow. I can see why they might think my resilience after loss is admirable, but what is courageous about grieving openly?
“You are so strong for sharing your story,” some would say. It always struck me as odd. Why wouldn’t I share my grief? I loved her when she was here, and I love her still. That love doesn’t fade just because she is no longer with us. Grieving is simply an expression of parental love, a normal part of being a parent, albeit one that comes with an immense heartache.
Now, when I speak about my journey to wider audiences, people often say I’m courageous for discussing the daughter I loved and continue to love deeply, despite her untimely passing. But what is so courageous about expressing the sorrow that any mother feels for her child? Isn’t it natural to talk about and celebrate our children, regardless of their circumstances?
It shouldn’t be viewed as an act of bravery to share my loss, my daughter, or my grief. It should be seen as normal, as part of the parenting landscape—just a different way of parenting from those who haven’t experienced loss.
I wish others would grasp this reality. I hope that friends, family, coworkers, and healthcare professionals could recognize that love for a child doesn’t cease to exist because they have passed away. No matter how brief the time we had with them, our love remains, and thus, our grief endures.
This is simply bereaved parenting, but parenting nonetheless.
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