I didn’t have my therapist hat on when my son went through his grief—I was just his mom, muddling through it alongside him. By Lori Gottlieb
This year is different. Maybe it’s because I’ve had the miscarriages. Maybe it’s because we both recently turned 42. By Angela Kidd
Next to Orion’s Belt are two dimmer stars. These are the babies I lost, one before each of my sons. By Julia Pelly
Our daughter asked good questions—what about the other baby? Were we sad? Why did it happen? By Cynthia Nuara
I sent you a bowl of black stones because of the hardness of loving a child for exactly who he is. By Brianne DeRosa
If my belly was round and full of baby, would I hate my body less? This body that betrayed me. By Brittany Wren
It had been a long time since I’d heard her laugh. It felt like clouds parting. By Stewart Lewis
Time heals so much of what goes wrong in life, but the memory of what happened to Mum on that day still makes my body react. By Clover Stroud
You will be in your slippers, making waffles, and suddenly remember that your mother is dead. By Brianne DeRosa
After we gave it all to Goodwill, I lived in fear every day that I would see somebody else wearing my mom’s clothes. By Kandace Chapple
Sometimes making yourself quieter for other people is the same as making yourself smaller. By Lauren Apfel
“Momma was crying last night,” my seven-year-old said. “She was crying because you left our family.” By Erik Raschke
Perhaps the fish were feeble replacements for all that we had lost, but they were also hopeful things. By Samantha Shanley
Nobody will send flowers. You don’t even have a face to conjure when you think of this child. By Maggie Downs
For what seems like a single frame of the video, I see my child silhouetted in the lights of the oncoming car. By Ian Smith
This is how it works in a humane society. Someone gets a bad break, and the system is set up to cushion the blow. By Mary Janevic
We connected through the magic of the internet. Her son was in crisis. Could I help?
By Brianne DeRosa
So why is it you want a baby, my therapist asks. Love, I answer.
By Bethany Marcel
More than my body and my schedule, IVF took over my mind.
By Belle Boggs
Sorry, can’t make it to the sorority reunion. My thermometer says I’m ovulating!
By Amy Klein
I cling to the knowledge that if I have given her anything, I have given her hope. I see it in her smile.
By Jenn O’Connor
I can’t imagine spreading my legs and letting doctors make quick work of this loss.
By Nicole Piasecki
I’m postpartum. Without a newborn. At 20 weeks of pregnancy, my baby didn’t make it.
By Jenn Press Arata
Photographs suggested a future, a future in which we would look back at this moment, but a future where our baby might be gone.
By Yvonne Spence
I am shocked still by the parenting moments that break my heart.
By Catherine Newman