child loss

Who am I?

Quiet Ground

16 Apr 2025

I'm not entirely sure who I am anymore.

Maybe that's why I'm here.

The basics? I'm 34. A mother of two–one living, one in heaven. A separated wife. Someone struggling with her career, trying to find purpose in the rubble my life has become.

Losing my son shifted everything.

The way I see the world, the way I move through it, the way I breathe.

What keeps me going is my daughter. And the friends and family who show up, even when they don't know what to say. There are others–people who make this already heavy life heavier–and I'm learning how to carry that too.

I'm writing anonymously.

Not because I'm ashamed.

But because I want to tell the truth without looking over my shoulder.

The Hardest Work You'll Ever Do

Therapy isn’t a warm cup of tea and a cozy blanket. It’s more like picking up the rug you’ve been sweeping things under for decades, only to find the dust is heavier than you imagined. This morning, I sat with my therapist talking about “emotional childhood neglect.

Still Here

It’s strange, isn’t it? How the world expects you to survive the unimaginable and return to it like nothing happened. How your child can die, and people just… forget. They expect you to move on. To be “better.” To show up the way you used to, like you’

The Quiet Drift

It’s been creeping in slowly, this feeling that I’ve drifted from my son. I don’t feel him like I used to. And saying that out loud feels like betrayal. In the beginning, he was everywhere. In the songs that came on at the perfect time. In the

I Want to Be Seen

I've spent years being the helper. Today I admitted out loud: I want to be helped too.

Read more

The Hardest Work You'll Ever Do

Still Here

The Quiet Drift

I Want to Be Seen