It has been three years since my daughter was stillborn. I find myself in a constant state of duality—experiencing both happiness and deep sorrow simultaneously. These contrasting emotions coexist within me.
I continue to miss her deeply. There are moments when tears unexpectedly stream down my face, triggered by the simplest of sights. For example, I recently saw a three-year-old girl with a ponytail and a floral dress, holding her younger sister’s hand. This sight transported me to a parallel universe where that could have been my daughters, Mia and Zoe. Even in fleeting moments of joy, I feel that ache; I still miss her.
My love for her remains as strong as ever; only her physical presence has faded. I wish more people understood that grief is a manifestation of love—a natural response to losing a connection. It is a normal reaction to miss someone who was part of our lives and to mourn the dreams that vanished along with them.
In the early days of my loss, I often heard people label me as brave. Brave for continuing to live, brave for facing each new day without her, brave for allowing myself to feel that loss. While I recognize that others may see these actions as acts of bravery, I can’t help but question: What is so courageous about grieving?
“You are so strong for sharing your story,” I would hear. At times, this felt strange. Why wouldn’t I want to grieve openly? Why wouldn’t I want to celebrate the life and love I had for her, even in her absence? Our love does not vanish when our child dies; it remains a part of who we are. Grieving is simply a natural expression of that enduring love.
Now, when I share my experiences in larger forums, the word “courageous” often comes up again. Courageous for discussing the daughter I loved deeply, who unfortunately is no longer here. But why is it considered brave to talk about her? Isn’t it the norm for a mother to miss her child? Shouldn’t it be expected for a parent to share their child’s life stories, regardless of how brief those moments were?
It shouldn’t be an act of bravery to express my grief or to honor my daughter. It should be viewed as a normal part of parenting. I am just navigating my journey of bereaved parenting, which is still parenting, albeit in a different way than parents who haven’t faced such loss.
I wish more people would open their hearts to this understanding. Friends, family, colleagues, and healthcare professionals need to realize that a parent’s love does not cease with death, no matter how short the time we had with our child. Whether they left us in the womb or in our arms, our love remains intact, and so does our grief. It’s an ongoing part of our lives, a normal expression of love that will always be there.
In conclusion, grieving a lost child is not an act of bravery; it is an expression of love. It’s part of how we continue to parent, even in absence. For more insights on home insemination and parenting, check out this informative guide on home insemination kits. Additionally, I recommend visiting Progyny for excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary: This article discusses the complexities of grieving a lost child, emphasizing that expressing grief should not be viewed as an act of bravery. It highlights the enduring nature of a parent’s love and the normalcy of sharing that love, even after loss.