Author Archives: This Grieving Mama

I never finished his baby book. I received a beautiful baby book from my best friend while I was pregnant, and I was so excited at the prospect of filling in all of the little memories as they happened once our little boy arrived. This book would contain all of Miles’ firsts; first smile, firstContinue reading “Darling Firsts and Precious Lasts”

It wasn’t until the day was almost over that I lost it. I had distracted myself all day, willing myself to believe that this was just any other day, a Hallmark holiday meant for husbands to win brownie points. But the truth is, it’s a day set aside to honour, remember and celebrate motherhood inContinue reading “Mother’s Day”

I remember staring at baby shoes on store shelves before you were conceived. I ached to put these tiny little shoes on my future baby’s feet. In the months and years we tried to get pregnant, I would imagine chubby little toes wiggling inside my belly, and getting to kiss these toes once you wereContinue reading “Shoes”

Red. You were too young to have a favourite colour, but I imagine red would have been it when you got older. It was the colour of the plaid fleece blanket we bundled you in when we brought you home from the hospital. Of one of the nursing bras I wore when breastfeeding you, yourContinue reading “Red”

The steam of the shower billows over the top of the glass, but the walls are still cold. I sit, bottle clasped in my hands, breathing its scent in so deeply my lungs start to ache. The streams of water and tears tickle my cheeks as I remember.  Your tiny body, the first time weContinue reading “Descent”

He never said mama. And now that he’s gone, I can’t even say I’m a mama with full belief. Being a mother requires having a child, doesn’t it? Having in the present tense, I mean. I had him, but he’s gone. I have wanted to be a mother since I can remember. Watching my friendsContinue reading “I WAS”

I sit cross-legged on my living room floor. The same floor my 11-month-old son played on less than two months ago, crawling from toy to toy, laughing as his long eyelashes glinted in the winter sunshine. But now I sit here, alone, and the words I hate so much are on repeat in my head.Continue reading “A Brief History of Time”