• Without Dreams

    February 22, 2016

    I’ve never dreamed of her. I’ve hoped and prayed and begged, but I’ve never dreamed of her. Though a dream isn’t needed, in the connection between mother and child. I can see her in my spirit when I quiet the world around me and calm the one within me. I see her the same every…

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  • A Mover and a Shaker

    June 7, 2015

    The split. The deafening crack between before and after, between what was and what will never be. Change erupts, violently scorching all things within its reach and life is suddenly and irrevocably severed. Two distinct parts. Before. And After. We come to, in the After, weary and broken. We sift through the charred remains of…

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  • Every Day

    December 30, 2014

    I wake up in the morning. I hear the silence. The space. The void where her cries ought to be. I pour my coffee. There’s no breast milk to worry about. I eat breakfast. No high chair at the table. I drive to work. I’m blinded by the sun. And I feel her in its…

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  • Grief is…

    November 19, 2014

    I have learned a lot of things about grief in the last 2 years.  Things that I didn’t know before grief came barreling into my life. Things that Webster won’t tell you. That people in general won’t tell you. And while I’m not sure that there is such a thing as being prepared for grief, I do think…

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  • Siblings.

    October 29, 2014

    My son was two years old when his sister was stillborn. I remember how quickly the panic began in my head. What do we tell him? When do we tell him? How would he know her? How would I make sure that he knew her? It was my job to make sure he knew her,…

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  • Simple Pain.

    July 29, 2014

    There have been seasons of grief during which I was wild. Primal and raw and wild. Where my emotions were in control of my every move and what was left of rational thought, had long given way to piercing fatigue. Sound familiar? It was shortly after one of these times, that I learned the art…

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  • Cemetery Life

    May 13, 2014

    Since the day we buried her, I have felt at home in the cemetery. Before, it was a place of discomfort and obligation. I went of course, as needed. But I definitely wouldn’t stay longer than required and I’d never dream of being there after dark. Or before dawn. Or just because. Or any of…

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