Piper Lynn

I Surrender    I became a parent 9 years (and some months) ago, when my husband and I welcomed our oldest son, Brayden, into the world. Since then, I have had three more children. That makes three boys living earth side and our youngest, our girl, living in our hearts. I delivered Piper at 18 weeks GA. She had died sometime before, but we didn’t know until an US was completed in follow up to abnormal genetic testing results.  Piper was diagnosed with Trisomy 13, a genetic abnormality that we had no control over. The day we found out she might have Trisomy 13, our grief journey was initiated. The day we delivered her sweet, tiny body (perfect in every way), we set foot on the actual path.  Two months after I delivered Piper in the hospital, surrounded by rooms of screaming babies, my grief changed from channeled energy, self-sufficiency and healthy discussion to sadness, fear, chest pain and incompetence. I withdrew from my life.  The holiday season had commenced, our only daughter had

Sitting in the waiting room with a dead baby inside of me, completely numb. Holding my husband's hand and waiting. One hour before "I just want to let you know that I do not see a heartbeat...let me go talk with the doctor and have her take a look." That moment began the slow decline away from my humanity and reality. My mind silencing my thoughts of the reality, my physical heart pumping, but my theoretical heart still. Months later as grief set in, the fog over powered me and my inability to focus became paralyzing, I began to question why pregnancy loss is so damn lonely, even when I thought I was doing it all right. Talking about my loss, starting a group in our daughter's memory, participating in weekly therapy and being supported by an amazing partner. How did I get to the point where the silence around pregnancy loss was affecting me so deeply? So I started talking about my memories of our experience outloud, sometimes repeating certain parts over and over. The