An excerpt of the story that made me want to weep - this is about a woman who had lost her baby girl 6 months into her pregnancy. She had called it a miscarriage, but did that really count as a miscarriage? To me, it seemed more like a premature baby that died, that she had given birth to a baby and lost her without even getting the chance to know her.
Here’s what Sugar wrote that resonated with me so much, that I couldn't help letting these tears well up:
“You will never stop loving your daughter. You will never forget her. You will always know her name. But she will always be dead. Nobody can intervene and make that right and nobody will. Nobody can take it back with silence or push it away with words. Nobody will protect you from your suffering. You can’t cry it away or eat it away or starve it away or walk it away or punch it away or even therapy it away. It’s just there, and you have to survive it. You have to endure it. You have to live through it and love it and move on and be better for it and run as far as you can in the direction of your best and happiest dreams across the bridge that was built by your own desire to heal. Therapists and friends and other people who live on Planet My Baby Died can help you along the way, but the healing — the genuine healing, the actual real deal down-on-your-knees-in-the-mud change — is entirely and absolutely up to you.”
This is such a good book - it’s rendered me so emotionally helpless and vulnerable that it feels therapeutic. That now I look with fresh eyes upon the world I live in and just can’t believe how lucky I am to be alive and healthy and loved and cared for, that my troubles simply pale in comparison.
I wonder how long before I succumb to this deluge of emotions, giving in to my tears as I read this book.
