Content Warning: Child Loss
Five years have passed since the heartbreaking loss of my three-week-old daughter, Lila, due to a congenital heart defect. Throughout this time, I have become more attuned to the triggers that evoke my grief. They can be as obvious as encountering someone with her name, instantly causing my heart to ache. Yet, they can also be unexpected, like the sterile scent of a hospital, which can whisk me back to the two months I spent on bed rest while pregnant with Lila and her twin sister, Ava.
It is often during moments when I feel I’m moving forward and everything appears fine that my grief catches me off guard and overwhelms me. It shows up uninvited, reopening old wounds of loss and trauma without regard for my current state of mind.
Just a few weekends ago, I gathered with two of my dearest friends, an occasion meant for laughter and reminiscing. Despite the challenges of coordinating schedules across cities and juggling family responsibilities, we were excited to spend time together.
As we reminisced, I noticed a photo book resting on the ottoman where I had placed my feet. I opened it to find a lovely compilation of pictures and recipes gifted to my friend before her wedding years earlier. Given my long history with this friend, I was taken aback that I had not contributed a recipe.
“I don’t remember this,” I said, puzzled. “Why didn’t I send you a recipe?”
Her gentle response hit me like a wave: “That was in October, when everything… happened.”
The air felt heavy in that moment. My daughter passed away on October 4, 2012, and the detail of missing out on contributing to my friend’s celebration had naturally slipped my mind. The haze of grief and depression that enveloped me during that time rendered me unable to partake in a beautiful gesture for someone who means so much to me.
While I enjoyed my time with my friends, that unexpected moment shook me deeply. It served as a painful reminder of a dark chapter in my life. No matter how much time elapses or how much healing I experience, an undeniable sadness will always linger within me. I will forever feel a sense of incompleteness and, in some respects, bitterness for the experiences I was robbed of—first smiles, laughter, birthday celebrations, and the unique joys of raising twins.
However, grief was not finished with me that day. Upon returning home, I assisted my husband in putting our daughters to bed and collected the mail from our mailbox. My heart skipped a beat when I spotted a plain white envelope resting atop the pile of bills.
“To the family of Lila Froelich.”
I knew instantly what it contained: the annual invitation from the hospital for their children’s remembrance ceremony for families who have lost a child.
Staring at that piece of paper, I felt a rush of emotions. We attended the ceremony the first year after Lila’s passing, and while it was beautifully organized, we have not returned since. Yet, there it was—a stark reminder of our loss.
That night, like many others, I cried myself to sleep. My grief had been cunning that day; it didn’t manifest through a song or a familiar scent but rather through an unexpected, harsh reminder. Grief and loss do not remain confined to the past. While we strive not to let grief dictate our lives, its shadow is always present, lurking and striking when we least expect it.
Throughout my journey with loss, I have learned that some days I will feel strong, while on others, I may falter. Sometimes I will rise above my grief, and sometimes it will engulf me. I understand that grief will continue to intersect my life in unforeseen ways. When it does, I will endeavor to seek the light and navigate through the day.
For those interested in exploring how to navigate similar experiences, you may find valuable insights in this at-home insemination kit guide, as well as in this resource on infertility.
In conclusion, grief is a complex and unpredictable journey that can strike when least expected, but acknowledging its presence can help foster healing.
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