My Dear, Grief Warrior Mama:
My heart is broken for yours. You have experienced something no one should ever have to and I hate that our paths converge here – on a broken road. A road filled with sorrow, grief, and shattered dreams. You planned a life for your sweet babe – a life filled with joy and the making of memories. Of sweet baby smells, delighting in the sounds of giggles, and a love that can never be surpassed.
You are brave. You don’t feel it, and I don’t either. But you are brave. You keep going when you are holding on by your fingernails. Your baby’s legacy lives on through you and the unbridled love you have for them.
You are strong. If you’re like me, an epic eye roll immediately follows someone telling you that you’re strong. You don’t feel it, and I don’t either some days. But you are strong. You carry the weight of grief, the price of great love, which can be crushing at times. But there you are, doing it. You carry it past the point you ever thought you could.
This road where our paths meet is messy and uncertain. It is broken, because we are broken. It is where our unwelcomed grief journey begins. You may be further than the path than I; I will look for your footsteps to guide my way. You may not be as far out on the journey as I am; I promise to shine a light behind me for you to follow. For we, this bereaved sisterhood, are the ones who truly understand what walking this road feels like. The rocky soil beneath our shaky steps, the gnarled branches we lean on to steady ourselves; these things can only be felt by those who walk this journey too.
Chloe Frayne said “It was love, and I lived in it. And it is grief, and I will carry it.” I see you, Warrior, as you bask in the love for your beloved and watch with breath that is bated as you carry your grief.
As International Bereaved Mother’s Day approaches, I wish these things for you:
Grace for yourself, for when you feel crippled by expectations from yourself or others. For the days you feel like you’re not doing enough. Not being enough. Not accomplishing enough. Not grieving enough. Not joyful enough. Give yourself grace, my dear. You are enough, just as you are.
Showers of love, by those around you showing up to love and support you on your tender days, especially those that celebrate your motherhood. May they show up and sit in the space you’re in, good or bad, and not make attempts to fix your grief, your perspective, or your heart. May they speak your child’s name proudly and honor them with you.
Gentleness, as you navigate the day and may experience over or under whelming emotions that take you off guard. Be gentle with yourself as you face the day and practice self-care.
You are a beautiful mother. Today, and always, I honor your motherhood. I honor your love. I honor your grief. I honor the joy in your good days and the tears in the not so good days. You are fully seen as the incredible woman you are and I am in awe of you.
From my tender heart to yours, I wish you a peaceful and gentle Bereaved Mother’s Day, Warrior Mama.
Keep Hope Alive,
Kim
