It’s been three years since my son, Jamie, was stillborn. In my heart, I hold two contrasting emotions: happiness for the life I have and a profound sense of loss for the one that was taken from me. These feelings coexist, often unexpectedly, as I navigate my day-to-day life.
I still yearn for him. Often, tears catch me off guard. I see a little boy, around three years old, playing joyfully in a park. I can’t help but imagine the moments we could have shared together. That could have been Jamie and his sibling, I think. Even in moments when I convince myself I’m okay, his absence weighs heavily on my heart.
My love for Jamie has not faded; only his physical presence is gone. It’s crucial to recognize that grief is a manifestation of love, a natural response to the severed bond we had, a reminder of all the dreams that perished with him.
In the early days of my loss, people would often call me brave. Brave for continuing to live, brave for facing each new day without him, brave for allowing my emotions to surface. I understand why they might view my endurance as bravery, but what I find perplexing is the notion that grieving openly is courageous.
“You are so strong for sharing your experience,” some would say. But why shouldn’t I share? Why wouldn’t I want to keep Jamie’s memory alive? My love for him remains unchanged whether he is here with me or not. Grieving is simply an extension of that love—a normal part of being a parent.
Now, as I speak more publicly about Jamie, I often hear the word courageous applied to my story. What is courageous about talking about a child who meant the world to me? Isn’t it natural for a mother to miss her child? Isn’t it normal to want to share the joy, the pain, and the love that comes with being a parent? It shouldn’t have to be framed as an act of bravery to express my grief, to honor my child, to be a mother in my own way.
I wish that friends, family, colleagues, and even healthcare professionals could embrace the idea that love for a child does not cease with their passing, regardless of how brief our time together may have been. Whether they left us in utero or in our arms, the love persists. Thus, the grief continues. It’s part of our parenting journey—bereaved parenting, but parenting nonetheless.
For more insights on navigating the complexities of grief and loss, check out this resource on pregnancy treatment options. If you’re considering starting a family, reputable online retailers like Cryobaby offer at-home insemination syringe kits that can help. Additionally, you might find it helpful to explore more about our experiences in this related post.
In summary, grieving the loss of a child is not an act of bravery; it is a profound expression of love. Sharing that journey should be normalized, as it is a part of the parenting experience, albeit one filled with unique challenges and heartache.
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