Parenting
Five years after the loss of my newborn daughter, Ava, due to a congenital heart defect, I have begun to identify what triggers my grief. These triggers can be predictable, like encountering someone with her name, which immediately brings a wave of heartache. They can also arise from the most unexpected sources, such as the clinical scent of a hospital, which can transport me back to my two-month bed rest while pregnant with Ava and her twin sister, Mia.
It’s often during moments when I feel I’m moving forward—when life seems to be going smoothly—that grief sneaks up on me, tearing open old wounds with little regard for my emotional stability.
Not long ago, during a lovely weekend gathering with two of my dearest friends, I was caught off guard. We had planned the day simply to reconnect, an endeavor that becomes challenging with the demands of life, work, and family. As we chatted and reminisced, I noticed a photo book resting on my friend’s ottoman. Flipping through it, I realized it was a heartfelt compilation of recipes and photographs gifted to her before her wedding years ago.
Having known her for over twenty years and having been one of her bridesmaids, it struck me as odd that I hadn’t contributed a recipe. “I don’t remember this,” I said, puzzled. “Why didn’t I send you a recipe?”
Her response was soft and understanding: “That was in October, when everything… happened.”
In an instant, the atmosphere shifted. The date of my daughter’s passing, October 4, 2018, loomed large. The grief that had enveloped me during that time had rendered me unable to participate in what should have been a joyful moment for my friend.
While the visit was enjoyable, that unexpected reminder of my loss hit me hard, bringing back memories of a dark chapter in my life. No matter how much healing time may bring, I will always carry a deep sadness, a sense of incompleteness, and an underlying bitterness from losing my child—the first laughs, milestones, and the joy of raising twins snatched away from me.
Grief continued to make its presence known that day. Upon returning home, after helping my partner settle our daughters for the night, I sifted through the mail. My heart sank at the sight of a white envelope addressed to “The family of Ava Thompson.”
Even before opening it, I recognized it—a yearly invitation from the hospital for their children’s remembrance ceremony, a gathering for families who have lost a child. I stared blankly at the paper before discarding it. We attended the ceremony the year following Ava’s death, appreciating the effort to honor our little ones, but we hadn’t gone back since. Yet, there it was again, a painful reminder of our loss.
That night, like many others, I cried myself to sleep. Grief had come unexpectedly, unannounced. It didn’t manifest through familiar triggers like music or scents but rather appeared in a subtle yet brutal way. Grief is relentless. It doesn’t remain confined to the past. We can strive to not let it control us, but its shadow is ever-present, waiting to resurface when we least expect it.
Through my journey of loss, I have learned that I will have moments of strength and moments of vulnerability. Sometimes I will rise above the pain, and at other times, it will overwhelm me. Grief will continue to find ways to infiltrate my life, and when it does, I’ll do my best to seek the light and navigate through the day.
If you’re on a similar journey and looking for support or resources, check out this excellent guide on what to expect during your first IUI.
For more insights on navigating loss and other related topics, feel free to explore our other posts, such as this one about emotional healing.
Summary:
This article explores the unpredictable nature of grief following the loss of a child, highlighting personal experiences and reflections on how memories and reminders can trigger deep emotions. It emphasizes the ongoing journey of coping with loss and the importance of seeking light amidst the darkness.