When I was younger, I never thought about having kids. I thought about my career and getting married someday, about where I wanted to live and the difference I wanted to make in the world, about the places I wanted to see and the experiences I wanted to have.

Having kids was just a given, something I assumed I’d do at some point.

For a while, everything seemed to be on track. I finished high school, traveled across the country for college to pursue my chosen career. I met my partner, fell in love, got engaged, and everything seemed to be unfolding perfectly. College, marriage, career, family. That was the plan.

That’s when things started to derail. We got pregnant unexpectedly and before I could even wrap my head around it, my fiancé was killed in a car accident. The certain and secure joy of life crumbled before me. Then, even as I was reeling from the loss of my love, our sweet baby girl died and was born still.

That last certainty of life, that one thing I never questioned – becoming a mother – was suddenly swept out from under me as well.

I have to admit, that even then after so much loss, I never really questioned that someday I would have children to raise. Someday life would go as planned.

It wasn’t until after my second daughter died during pregnancy that I started to question whether I would become a parent and a mother here on earth. My body had failed to bring both of my children into this life and what if it never birthed a living child? What if I never had the children I always assumed I would have?

What would it mean for my life if things didn’t go as I’d always assumed or planned they would?

More importantly, would I ever be happy and at peace with my life if I never had children to raise?

Fast-forward six years and, much to my surprise, the answer is yes. I can be happy and at peace with life without any children here on earth.

I’ve been asked by many other invisible mothers whether it’s possible to be happy again and to really be at peace with a child-less life. They can’t imagine a life beyond the grief and devastating pain of losing their baby and the thought of never holding a living baby of their own in their arms is unbearable.

I couldn’t imagine it either. Yet, somehow, I’m here where life is good and happy and fulfilling again. So, yes, happiness and peace are possible with or without a living child to hold.

Then I get asked the hard question.

How?

I wish I had a clear and easy answer for them. I think it’s different for everyone, just as the grief process is different for everyone.

I don’t have all the answers to this question. I can’t know for certain if what help me move from broken and lost into happy and steady again will work for others as it did for me. If life and loss has taught me anything, it’s that there is no guarantee to anything in life other than the fact that our bodies come into this world and they leave this world. How long they stay or what we experience while we are here is the mystical unknown of life.

But, this is what I do know about my journey:

I had to make the choice to be happy again. I had to commit to it. Over and over and over again.

I could have easily stayed lost in the fog of depression and grief and misery for the rest of my life. I could have stayed angry and defensive about the unfairness of life. I could have continued to hold people at a distance to keep myself from ever being hurt again.

I had to choose to find things about life to be grateful for. I had to forgive others for not really being able to understand my losses. I had to forgive life for not going as planned. I had to let people in and experience the discomfort of vulnerability and love.

I made myself embrace and lean into the pain of seeing others live the life of marriage and motherhood I might never get to live. I made myself hold other babies even when it hurt until the day I could hold one and smile instead of cry. I made myself allow others to love and support me even if they didn’t or couldn’t do it in exactly the way I thought they should.

I had to give myself permission to be happy again. I had to forgive myself for feeling good again without my children.

Being happy again didn’t mean I stopped loving or missing my babies. It didn’t mean I was a bad mother to them for letting it be ok to not have my daughters be the sole focus of my life anymore.

Being happy and finding meaning in life again didn’t mean that I had forgotten them. Being at peace with life as it is didn’t mean that I would never miss or grieve for their absence in my life. Feeling good again didn’t mean that I was a bad mother.

I will always love and miss my sweet babies. And it’s ok that their loss doesn’t define my life anymore.

Life did not go as planned. I will never be the mother I assumed I would be.

I’m happy. I’m fulfilled. I’m at peace with life.

And that happiness, fulfillment, and peace means more than it might have had I not had to fight so hard for it.

I like to think the depth of what I am able to feel now – the happy and the sad – is a beautiful gift from my daughters. It wasn’t a gift I wanted, but it keeps them with me in the sweetness and beauty of living.

For that, I am grateful.

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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
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• Receiving Support - October 14, 2016