After Stillbirth
You gave birth. You are a mother.
A gentle, safe place after a stillbirth, for as long as you need it.
After Stillbirth
A gentle, safe place after a stillbirth, for as long as you need it.
If your baby was born still, you are in the right place. I am so glad you found your way here.
You carried your baby. You felt the kicks and the hiccups. You made the room, and chose the name, and dreamed the whole life. And then you gave birth in a room that should have been full of a first cry, and was silent instead.
There are few losses in this world as heavy. Here, no one will ask you to carry it quietly.
You are a mother. You will always be a mother. Birth happened. Your baby was here.
If you were able to hold your baby, those moments are sacred. If you have footprints, a lock of hair, a single photograph, they are treasures. If you named your baby, that name matters, and it is safe to say out loud in this place.
Whatever you were able to keep, and whatever you ache that you do not have, your love was complete. Nothing about it was unfinished.
There are no stages to move through, and no stairs to climb. There is only your own path, at your own pace, held with love.
The quiet nursery. The milk that came in anyway. The due date still living on the calendar. Coming home with empty arms. Each of these is its own kind of grief, and each one is allowed here.
However you carry this, it is yours, and it is welcome.
Held by Daisy is a warm circle of women and families who know this loss, because they carry it too. Inside, you will find gentle company at any hour, a place to tell your baby’s story and speak your baby’s name, and the When Grief Lands program, a self-paced path through grief in your own voice.
Come and read quietly, or share when you feel safe. However you arrive, there is room for you.
Come and be heldIf you are looking for someone who truly understands, my memoir Until Next Time tells the story of losing my own son, and the love that carried us through. For many parents, it is the book that opens the door.
Find the bookI want to tell you something I wish someone had told me. Your baby was loved. You are a mother still. And you will not carry this alone.
You are not broken. You are not alone. You are held here.