Three years have passed since my daughter, Lily, was stillborn. In my heart, joy and sorrow coexist. I often find myself reminiscing about her, a bittersweet experience that catches me off guard. For instance, during a recent trip to the grocery store, I spotted a little girl, three years old, wearing a bright floral dress, holding hands with her younger sibling. In that fleeting moment, I imagined what life could have been like with Lily and her sister, Mia, who is almost two. The pang of loss hits me unexpectedly, reminding me that my love for her endures despite her absence.
Grief, I believe, is an expression of love—a natural response to losing a connection with someone who meant the world to us. Early in my journey of loss, people would often describe me as brave. But the truth is, what exactly is brave about waking up each day to face the emptiness? What is courageous about missing my child? I understand why others might perceive the act of continuing to live as brave, but the idea of being courageous for grieving openly seems misplaced.
When I share my experiences, some refer to me as courageous for speaking about Lily. I find it puzzling—why should talking about my daughter, whom I love deeply, be seen as an act of bravery? Isn’t it inherent for a mother to miss her child? Isn’t it natural to share her existence with the world? It should be commonplace for parents, regardless of their circumstances, to express their love for their children, living or lost. This is simply parenting, albeit in a way that differs from those who have not faced such a loss.
I hope for greater understanding from those who have not experienced this heartache—friends, family, colleagues, and even healthcare professionals. It’s crucial to recognize that the love for a child does not diminish with death, regardless of how short our time together may have been. Whether they were taken from us in the womb or in our arms, the love and grief we feel remain constant.
Grieving is a normal, healthy aspect of being a parent. This is our reality—bereaved parenting is still parenting. For more insights into the complexities of conception and parenting, you might find this resource on intrauterine insemination helpful. And if you’re exploring options for home insemination, you can check out authoritative guides like this one that discusses at-home insemination kits.
In summary, loving and grieving for a lost child is not a display of bravery or courage; it is simply an expression of parental love that exists regardless of circumstance. We continue to love, and therefore, we continue to grieve.