Dear New Mama,

This is hard. So very hard.

You expected to be holding your beautiful, warm, breathing, wiggly baby in your arms. You expected sweet baby scent and the joys of tiny baby fingers and toes. You expected diaper changes, midnight feedings, and proudly introducing your beautiful little one to friends and family.

I am so sorry.

I’m so sorry you didn’t get the joy-filled life that you expected, and deserved.

I wish I could take the terrible desolation of this loss away. I wish I could place your living, breathing baby into your arms and tell you this was all a terrible, terrible nightmare.

I wish I could wake you up from this and make life beautiful again.

I wish I could spare you all the years of pain, grief, and heartache that come before life does start to feel beautiful again.

I wish I could give you your precious baby back.

I wish I could do all of that, but I can’t. I couldn’t do it for me and I can’t for you.

I can’t even promise you that one day this terrible ache of missing your baby will go away. It won’t, not completely.

I can tell you that it will get better. Slowly, so much more slowly than any of us would wish, but eventually the weight of this loss will begin to lighten.

One tiny step at a time, the burden of this grief and this loss will get easier to carry.

One day, you will feel like you again. It won’t be the same you. No, not the same you that you once were, but a you that will again feel familiar and safe. It will be a process, but you will find a new sense of self.

I can tell you that your time frame for healing won’t match anyone else’s, even though people will try to tell you what it should be and what your healing should look like. Don’t pay attention to them. They just don’t know. They can’t know, because they aren’t in your shoes. This path is your own.

You don’t, however, have to walk it alone. You are not alone on this journey called living after loss, of mothering without your baby here.

I am here. We are here. Mothers like you with empty arms and hearts so full of love and longing. We are here.

Life will never be the same again. I am so very sorry that you were handed this life in which you have to live without your beautiful little one.

This life can be a beautiful one and you will eventually make a new kind of sense of the world. There will always be missing pieces to this new life, yes, but it can have it’s own kind of beauty.

You might not be able to see that yet and that’s ok. I can see it for you. I know because I have been where you are, in that dark and desolate grief. And I am also here, where life is beautiful again amid the messiness and sorrow and missing of my daughters.

I promise to hold a light here for you as you find your way through this terrible grief and loss of all that you once knew. I promise to hold you in love, whether you can see it or not, through every step of this journey.

You are not alone. You are loved.

Hold on, beautiful mama. Hold onto love. It will carry you through this deepest sorrow.

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Emily Long

Emily Long is the mother of two much-loved daughters, both gone-too-soon. Several months after the death of her fiancé, their daughter Grace was born still. For many years, Emily lived with this loss in silence and isolation. It wasn’t until she experienced the death of her second daughter, Lily, that she finally sought support and created a community of people who helped her find the beauty and joy in life again. Through her own healing process, Emily became an advocate for all families grieving the loss of their children. Emily is a grief counselor in private practice and the author of the upcoming book, “Invisible Mothers.”

Emily works hard to increase education and improve care for bereaved mothers with medical professionals and other counselors. She also works with clients individually to provide support for grieving mothers and fathers. She writes and educates through her website, Emily Long: Archaeologist of the Living.

Latest posts by Emily Long (see all)

• I Should Know Them Now - May 29, 2017
• Stolen Memories - March 8, 2017
• Receiving Support - October 14, 2016