The other night, in one of the pregnancy groups I follow, someone posted about reduced movement and being concerned. My daughter had also been less active that day, and I was reading the message boards for distraction while I settled and waited for her to get active. Having lost my first child after I reported reduced fetal movement, I am always on the watch for these things now. I think it’s something we don’t talk about enough.
I’ve seen several of these types of posts in the group, and I’m glad that the most common response is to suggest that…
It’s the phone call you never expect to receive. It comes from your sister; your coworker; your best friend. She has been pregnant, and you’ve been following her pregnancy with so much excitement. You threw her a baby shower. You bought her a box of diapers and a ridiculously expensive ruffly outfit for coming home. You’ve been so excited to meet this new child, and when you pick up the phone, your first words are, “Is he here yet?” You assume she is calling to let you know her baby has been born. Instead, she tells you, “He died.” …
When I was three years old, my mom took me to look at a litter of new puppies. They were tiny, scrawling balls of curly gray and brown fur. I think there were three or four of them; I don’t really remember. I just remember smiling when my mom told me to choose.
We came back a bit later, when the puppies had gotten bigger. Ours came home with us, and we settled into new puppy life. And while yes, she was the family dog, her special place was always with my mother. My mother named her Ewok. It seemed…
I’ve been re-watching old TV shows lately, and there’s a moment in “How I Met Your Mother” that I keep coming back to. For a show that purports to be comedy, there are some surprisingly deeper levels. And in one of them, we learn that one of the main characters, Robin, doesn’t want to be a mother.
This is so interesting to me! And I think part of it is because it’s seen as uncommon. Women are “supposed to” want families, and if they don’t, we assume they will eventually change their minds. …
She was probably the most innocent person in the room. And that’s funny, I guess, because she was so incredibly book smart.
She studied voraciously and made so many plans. She kept checklists and spreadsheets. She was teacher’s pet in a class that kept no grades.
She believed in the power of hope, but she felt that real change came from will. When she saw those blue lines on her very first try, she thought about statistics, and maybe about luck, but mostly, her future seemed inevitable.
She had done all the reading. She spent her first appointment nodding her…
I’m not actively suicidal. I used to be.
Today, I’m “just” sad.
I go about the tasks of my day. I shower. I do laundry. I go to school; I am top of my class. I told all this to a friend. She reminded me that Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain were pretty badass as well.
I’m not actively suicidal.
I tell people I’m unhappy.
“What do you have to be unhappy about?”
I tell people I’m sad.
They ask if I’m in therapy.
I tell people I’m lonely.
They tell me I should get a hobby.
I wish it…
I remember when I first heard about parents sharing photos of their deceased children on social media. It sounded like the strangest thing to me — morbid; macabre. Why would anyone want to look at that?
And then I read a story on a parenting blog about a family who experienced the loss of their child. In those days, I still thought of loss as something distant; a thing that happened to other people, but never me. …
It is common practice in society today for a child conceived after loss to be called a “rainbow baby.” The name serves as a metaphor; implying that a living child is the rainbow that signals the end of the storm. Although I lost my first child at the end of a term pregnancy in 2017, I never felt comfortable calling my subsequent child a rainbow. It felt like a lot of pressure to put on another human being. Pressure I’ve experienced.
I grew up as a pseudo-rainbow baby. I don’t think they used the term back then, but both…
Writer; Mother; Everything in Between