Being a still mother, is being a strange type of lonely. The closest thing I can compare it to is something that most people experienced at least once as a child: That moment when you were small and in a crowded store with your parent, then suddenly something that you had always wanted was right in front of your face, then you began to daydream about all the possibilities before you when something brought you back to reality and you realized that person that was with you is suddenly gone.
Do you remember that panic? That feeling of terror? The feeling of being so very alone despite being surrounded by people? You stood there crying and yet life continued around you.
Remember the people that would walk by annoyed because your distress brought them discomfort and how someone with a kind heart offered to help you, yet still feeling so desperately alone. Remember how sometimes you would see another kid in that situation and threw a glance, you two could speak a million words of understanding because you both knew what it was like to be lost. Then that immense relief you felt when you were finally in the arms of your parent. That’s kind of what it’s like being a Still Mother, except we are still missing that person, our baby that we lost.
We are lost souls in a very big world full of people. Occasionally we run across or speak to other Still Mother’s that can relate, but the comfort it brings us sometimes is brief because nobody quite understands how each other deals with grief. We have to learn to live in this scary new place we find ourselves in and learn to navigate the new person we have become. We have to learn to tolerate the people who find our grief annoying, unnatural or uncomfortable and learn to accept help when it is offered to us. So please be patient, understanding and kind because despite what our heads say, our hearts, souls and arms are still aching for that baby we lost.
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My name is Ashley Nix. My husband and I have been together for 13 years and married for six. I suffered from five years of unexplained infertility but in 2015 I was ecstatic to learn that I was pregnant. However, we soon learned our daughter had Trisomy 18. On April 25th, 2016 at 28 weeks our daughter Aurora Rose Nix was born sleeping. Now I currently run a group where I perform and suggest acts of kindness in her and other angel babies memories.
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- What I Wish I Could Tell the Non-Loss Community - November 17, 2020