As we inch into the second year of my daughter’s passing, I’m finding myself at a standstill. The reality of what has happened to us hits me on a weekly basis. A photo I haven’t
I cannot pray. I don’t know how. It’s not that I don’t want to, but words fail me. They come out muffled and fake. They are stale and regurgitated from the days of my youth.
Nothing could have prepared me for the beauty of your spirit as you came in flesh and blood and water. Nothing. The love I have for you is vast. It is overwhelming. On the day
Dear Village, I don’t know how to ask this, without sounding quite desperate. But, the truth is, I am feeling desperate. Desperate to celebrate my daughter and have you alongside me. Her birthday is on
When I get nervous in life or death situations, I start babbling to the people around me. Or I throw up. I do best when strangers surround me for these reasons. Kind nurses with cool hands offering
By Kendra Roehl “Mommy is this right?” My daughter shows me the note she’s writing. There are pictures of herself and her siblings taped haphazardly alongside her printed words. “It’s close!” I reply. “Well, what
I started dreaming about a little business while Florence was still alive. When Teddy would nap frequently throughout the day, I would sit with Florence and string and restring necklaces. I can barely remember what