Dear parents,
I’m so sorry you’re reading this letter. I wish you weren’t. I wish I could say this is a bad dream and you’ll wake up any moment now. I wish I could be there with you and hug you as I say this. It’s not fair that your precious baby (babies) couldn’t stay with their loving parent. It’s not fair that you have to go home with an empty car seat. It’s not fair that you’re going home to an empty crib. It’s not fair that you have to drop out of your new parentgroup. It’s not fair that you’ve been robbed of all the hopes and dreams you had for them. It’s not fair that you now have the title of bereaved parent. It’s just not fair.
The journey you are on is one that people around you will not understand. They won’t understand the pain, or the loneliness, or the soul crushing sadness. They’ll be confused that your grief is not linear, that you seemed fine yesterday but today you’re crying. They’ll be shocked at the length of your journey: that it doesn’t just evaporate but that you carry it with you. But you are not alone. We are here with you, we grieve with you, and we remember them with you.
Remember that your grief is so very valid, that it can be as loud as you want and as long as you need it to be. No one has a right to tell you how to grieve.
After the socially imposed sympathy period has worn off, it may feel as though people have forgotten. I remember feeling so mad that everyone seemed completely fine, just going on with life as if nothing happened. As if my world had not stopped turning. Remember that no matter how lonely this new world may feel, your baby still matters. Remember you are still a parent even if your baby isn’t here physically. You are still THEIR parent. Speak their name as often as you want. Celebrate them as fiercely as you’d like.
But today, all you need to do is survive. Grief has no timeline, you take all the time you need and know that you are not alone.
With love,
A mama forever missing her little boy