Wednesday, March 27, 2013


Please don't tell me that you "hope things are getting back to normal."  I know that you mean well and I'm sure that you say this simply because you aren't sure what else to say.  Believe me, I wish things could be normal.  I wish that I was rocking my five week old son to sleep right now instead of typing about coping with life after his death. But the reality is this:  Our lives will never be "normal" again.

We are functioning and we are working on finding a new routine for our family.  We are finding ways to cope with our grief and ways to brace ourselves for the days when the pain becomes overwhelming.  We work to find ways for the girls to remember their little brother while trying to make sure that his death doesn't scare them. 

These things are part of what has become "normal" for us now...but when you tell us that you "hope things are getting back to normal," you have no idea what that means.  There will always be a part of us that is missing and there will always be a scar in our hearts for the son we didn't get to keep.

For what it's worth, I wouldn't want things to "go back to normal."  That would be like acting that Aaron never existed.  He did.  It would be like saying that he isn't loved as much as our other children.  He is.  It would be like pretending that he hasn't changed our lives in a profound way.  He has.

We don't need the pain to go away or the tears to stop.  There is no shame in either of those things, but it would be nice for the pain to ease and the tears to lessen.  It's okay to be hurt and it's okay to need to cry; the ache and the tears will be with us for the rest of our lives.  But that doesn't mean that we can't be joyful or that we can't celebrate the blessings we are given.  We don't need to "return to normal" to feel happy; our "new normal" simply means making room for the grief alongside the joy. 


  1. I have a slightly similar situation. I don't know how to work Blogger very well yet. Could u help me out? I'm at found this from baby center I lost mine Feb 13. Pena shokeir.

  2. You said it so well. We lead a different life now. Our firstborn was stillborn at fullterm May 2, 1975. NOBODY talked about stillbirth back then. He was beautiful, but I had to grieve alone. Five years later, our only daughter was stillborn at 20 weeks. Both of my babies had cord accidents that cut off their blood supply. Again, swept under the table. No babyloss groups back then. Katie, I honestly don't know how I have made it. This May 2 will be 38 years and it still hurts so bad. I found babyloss groups online last fall and in November I started blogging. I am so sorry you are still in those VERY raw first months. Please accept my deepest sympathy. Getting it out in a blog has helped me a lot this year. I also create balloons for babayloss moms on their child's Angel Birthday Date. It is a full time job, but so healing. Check out my site or just Google it. My blog is or you can Google it. I am doing a Mother's Day Balloon event. Although it is now closed, I will include your Aaron. I will be taking lots of pictures. I already have 7 dozen balloons to release! My husband is 100% helping out. It is a way for us to do something on Mother's Day....healing. Once again, YOUR work is amazing and I hope it is healing for you too. Hugs to you as you take one step at a time. Gale Fitts

    1. Gale - Thank you so much for reading along and taking the time to share your own story. I am so sorry for your own losses and pain in these last 38 years, but am so grateful that you've been able to find some comfort recently in the online babyloss community. It truly has been a great help for me as well. I am so so very touched that you will be including Aaron in the Mother's Day balloon event! I can not even tell you how much that means to me, but please know that it brought tears to my eyes as I read your comment this morning! Thank you so much and know that I'm sending hugs your way as well!