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Category: Dealing with Loss

I’m Here For It – Grieving for Mamas and Angel Babies

Over the last year, I have been inundated with emails, blog comments, instagram DMs, facebook messages, etc, from women who have lost their moms, moms who have lost their moms, dads who have lost their wives, etc. I have woken up to these messages. I’ve gone to sleep to these messages. I even got one on my birthday. If you’re here, then there’s a good chance you found me from an article I wrote on Motherly. Or, perhaps, you found me googling grieving your mother. Or, maybe you found me for my motherhood and…

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I am 1 in 4.

I (like most people) have become accustomed to tragedy. I don’t say this lightly. After losing my mom, I have learned that having sadness in my life is always within arms reach. Things will happen. There’s nothing we can do to stop the evil. We just have to keep moving, going, hoping that it stays away for as long as possible. Losing my mom was and is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to deal with. It’s something no one can understand until they’ve gone through it &#8211…

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Happy Birthday, Mama.

I’ve been thinking about what I would say in this post all morning. I’ve always been better about writing my feelings than actually saying them. But some things are just hard, plain and simple. Some days are exhausting. There’s a perfect trifecta in my life now. It’s like the Bermuda triangle for my happiness. First, Mother’s day. Then your birthday. Then, finally, when I finally start to feel a little okay again, there’s the day you left us. Three dates following each other, only a couple of weeks…

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Raising a Daughter Without Your Mom

Raising a daughter without your mom… An essay about raising a daughter without your mom. I roamed the streets of Dublin in a haze that shifted from confused to mad to heartbroken with every step. When I saw a small bookstore with signs in the window advertising a going-out-of-business sale, everything only 5 euros, I went inside, leaving my emotions on the street. They didn’t belong in such a sacred space. I found a book smeared in shades of lavender, a color my mom painted our downstairs bathroom. It was called “Love’s Last Gift…

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The devil that is grief.

Grief is the devil. He’s been around a lot lately, more so than I care to let on. In the shower. On the closet floor when I’m organizing my socks. On the drive to work. In bed late at night. When I spill something. When my son gives me an attitude. When my daughter won’t stop crying. When a thought pops into my head of something I need to ask or tell my mother. Grief is all consuming in the darkness. Grief is a never ending ladder in the light, one I keep climbing…

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