Children’s books always used to break my heart. When I would read books to my eldest, Florence, I found myself omitting parts of the story, like “when you grow up you’ll run and jump and
It has been a long time since I’ve let myself be scraped raw and shared some words in this space. It was impossible for me to come back to this place and revisit the grief.
When Florence was alive, I dreamt of bringing together mother’s that had experienced unusual motherhood experiences together. I imagined what it would look like to hold the hands of other bereaved mothers. To share the