Kristin Binder is a proud momma to two-year-old boy/girl twins that she refers to here as "The Snowflakes," or "Bubba and Squeaks," and her first daughter, Peyton Elizabeth, who passed as an infant in 2008 to complications of leukemia. When she's not writing, breastfeeding, or changing blow-out diapers, you can catch her on Twitter.
She tottles along the beach with me, blonde curls at the nape of her neck. Chubby fingers with indents at the knuckles holding my hand. She utters things like “rock” or “what’s that” as we navigate the sharp rocks and shell fragments of low tide searching for sea glass. Across the silvery sand my husband helps my son throw rocks into … [Read more...]
It’s my birthday. I’m 33. To be honest, I’m a bit of an old 33. Crow’s feet outline my eyes. My forehead is wrinkled and my skin is somewhat pale. I’m out of shape and tired a lot. More than I should be at 33. I wear my heart on my sleeve, in both a good and bad way, and there is this ever-present, mostly low-lying aura of anxiety that … [Read more...]
I was going to tell you today about ways to honor your lost littles over the holidays. I was going to share healing exercises and ideas for keeping their memories alive in your celebrations. I was going to talk about all of these things, a then a madman with no conscience walked into an elementary school with a gun. He stole the lives of 20 … [Read more...]
I started writing about losing Peyton within weeks of her death. A friend gave me a journal, and in just a few hours I had filled its pages with every memory of her—simultaneously beautiful and torturous. I began attending a writing workshop shortly thereafter. The first story I wrote and shared was about Peyton peeing on my leg. The … [Read more...]
This past month has been an especially difficult one for our family. The fourth of September should have marked our daughter Peyton’s fourth birthday. Rather than planning a princess-themed party, or a bowling outing with her friends, my husband, children and I packed ourselves into the car and took a trip to visit our first-born daughter’s … [Read more...]
“Infertility colors our world and as I’ve so often said, we’re not defined by our disease but we are each shaped by it.“ – Keiko Zoll Her “What If” video has received accolades across the web. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sEURQqzKjuY Her actions against PETA’s tasteless “Win A Vasectomy” campaign, led to an apology from … [Read more...]
Did you know that your couch contains carcinogenic fire retardants that are released into the dust that you breathe in? How much time do you spend worrying about the link between lawn pesticides and childhood cancer? Are you someone who frets over the long-term health effects of chemicals in today’s processed foods? I am not “normal.” I … [Read more...]
It used to be that if you were the unlucky person to wander over to me in the meat department and ask if I had any children, I would respond with something to the effect of, “My daughter was born with a very rare form of Leukemia. It was totally unexpected. She started chemo at six days old and developed a terrible fungal infection. We had to make … [Read more...]
How many of you, after losing your child, felt angry when you heard other women complain about their children, or (healthy) pregnancy woes? Anyone? Come on, it’s okay to admit it. No judgments here. If you are anything like me, then reading statuses like: “up all night with a screaming baby—again!” or: “teething … [Read more...]
Kids grow up so fast these days. A friend of mine recently told me that she was planning on having “the talk” with her son, and while she sat before me fidgeting over which details she should or should not include in “the talk,” she asked me my opinion about how honest a parent should be. “I plan to be totally honest,” I … [Read more...]
She draws me rainbows and colourful swirls and announces to me “This what heaven looks like, Mummy. My big brother is there. He died. But he is in heaven now, so it is okay. He has special lights on his hands”. River, my daughter, sees things that I cannot. She tells me stories about [...]
It’s inside the spaces– the pauses– the infinite stillness– that I most palpably feel the emptiness you’ve left behind. It’s the silence of your missing voice that screams the loudest. It’s every holiday that’s impossible to truly celebrate. It’s the painfully absent goodnight routine. It’s the missing you in every picture of our forever-one-too-small family. [...]
