Monday, March 26, 2012


I was feeling okay for most of today, but then I checked my e-mail and there was a message from an old friend who was checking in.  I hadn't written to tell her that Grace had died, I hoped she had seen my post on Facebook, but she had not.  So I had to write and tell her.  The sadness just hit me life a giant wave.  I wanted to be writing and telling her how excited we were to get to meet our daughter soon, not to have to tell her that our baby was gone.

I also keep having the strange sensation that I am still pregnant.  I feel her inside me still.  I want to be pregnant again so badly.  I am so afraid that won't happen.  I have not written in detail about our struggles trying to get pregnant... I plan to soon, but needless to say that getting pregnant with Grace felt like a miracle.  Will lightening strike twice?  Can I ask for another miracle?  Is it true that once you have gotten pregnant it is easier?

My darling Grace I just wish that you could be with us.  You are always in my heart, but I would give anything to hold you again.


  1. Hi there,

    I have lurked on your site a bit - hope you don't mind. I also lost my daughter Grace last year. In response to your question about miracles - my colleague battled with endometriosis and infertility for years. She concieved her first son through IVF (they only managed to harvest 2 eggs and he came from the one which was viable) - miracle #1. She didn't ever think that there was the possibility of having another child and there was only a 1 in a billion chance of her concieving naturally. But she did - miracle #2, and now has two healthy sons. So I would say not to give up on miracles, and in her experience, having had one child did make it easier to have a second. As for lightning striking twice - I think that is the universal fear for all BLMs. Having put ones body, mind and heart on the line once and been so badly trampled, it is no mean feat to even be contemplating doing it all again especially as there are no guarantees. I have read accounts from moms where lighting has struck twice. But I have also read accounts from moms who have had one and sometimes more children after a devastating loss. At the end of the day, one just has to take a leap of faith. Much easier said than done, I know - 4 months on and I still don't believe I am brave enough or strong enough. I am in continued awe of all those moms who have had the courage to put their battered and bruised hearts on the line once more and hope that I will one day stand proud with them regardless of the outcome.

    Thinking of you xx.

  2. That is so hard...even 4 and 5 months after my loss someone would surprise me by asking "How is your baby?" I just thought everyone KNEW and it was horrible to have to find words to explain what happened. It's been almost 11 months for me and that hasn't happened in awhile, I think everyone just knows or has forgotten I was ever pregnant (unfortunately).

  3. Every once in awhile we meet someone who didn't know Eva died and I didn't know she didn't know. Just a few days ago I met someone who didn't know about Eva's sickness and subsequent death. She was with another friend of hers. She asked me to tell her other friend how many children I had. I told her to tell the friend. She kept asking me how many children I had. I asked her why she was doing this to me...she said 'children are a many do you have?' It killed me. It was so hard and sad.
    All this to say that yes, I know, I know how hard it is to tell someone who doesn't know. No, you're not eagerly anticipating Grace's arrival, you're mourning her death. I'm so sorry, Amanda, that you could not have a happy conversation with your friend.

  4. I tried to comment earlier but was having trouble with my ID. I wrote then that in a weird way I hope to run into people who still don't know so that I have a chance to talk about my daughter and tell her story. Then, after giving up on the comment, I ran into a neighbour in the elevator who I hadn't seen since A died and my theory was tested. I did feel comforted talking to the neighbour, who cried with me in the lobby of our building, but I suppose if she had been a different kind of person, I might feel differently. I wish Grace was with you too.