We are asked to hold SO MUCH after the death of our child, but one of the heaviest loads was feeling like I failed. We are hard-wired as parents, after our child is born, to make sure our child survives. It is our job. And when that doesn't happen, for whatever reason, we feel like we have failed. It doesn't matter if we recognize this feeling as irrational — we still feel that way. It is one of the most brutal parts of losing a child.

I imagine every parent has felt the anxiety of losing a child in a crowd, at a store, at the park, or elsewhere. I have had a few memories of such stressful moments.

Have you ever been so frustrated and mad with God, that praying seems impossible?

Like many of us, something I've struggled with for as long as I can remember is anxiety. Deep rooted anxiety that can sometimes cause physical symptoms of nausea, hot and cold sweating, dizziness and the feeling like I could pass out. As I got older, that anxiety manifested into feelings of self doubt, self worth, becoming very self conscious and that I was never good enough. I would struggle trying to figure out what to wear on a daily basis, what people would think of me and had problems making decisions for myself. Don’t misunderstand me- these are things I still struggle with, but have learned to identify what is happening now.

Rituals allow us to enter safely into grief because they have a beginning, middle, and end. They invite us to enter the tender places of our broken heart while encouraging us to focus on the present moment with the confidence that there is a way out.

There is so much we want to say to you -- so much we want you to know. But everything will fall short because if you are reading this then you are grieving your child and for that, we are so sorry.

My calling is now to bear witness to God’s plan for your life in surrender and obedience and ask the Holy Spirit to help guide me as I mourn, with open hands and a broken, faithful heart.

I’ve always enjoyed loving people. Meeting people, strangers becoming fast friends, getting to know people, loving them and their families was always something I felt I was really good at. It came effortlessly to me. 

My doctor watched me closely during my first trimester since I had had 3 previous miscarriages. During that trimester, I was afraid of my almost weekly visits. Afraid of what they might find. No heartbeat? Bad bloodwork? At week 12, my mind was eased. Everything looked fantastic.

Growing up Catholic in South Louisiana, I never really entered into Good Friday and the venerating (kissing) of the Cross. Yes I went to each Mass, but did I actually realize what I was doing? Even in my young adulthood, I can say I had absolutely no clue. I simply went through the motions.