Letter to the Grieving Mom Whose House is Quiet & Empty
Avery Swaringen
Dear grieving mom,
I see you and what you’re going through. I understand how it feels to leave the hospital with a box instead of your precious baby. I know the quiet and stillness that overcomes a house that should be filled with the sweet sounds of a newborn baby. I know how it feels to have set up a nursery only for it to sit empty and unused. I know the pain that comes with empty arms when you so desperately desire them to be full. I know the sleepless nights, not because you have a newborn to get up for, but because they are not there. I know, because I have been there and Mama, I am so sorry you have too.
I hope you know that your story matters. Your baby’s life matters and has a purpose and they will never be forgotten. I hope you know that you are stronger than you think.
I want you to know that it won’t always feel this way. Yes, you will still have days that seem unbearable and the grief hits you like a ton of bricks. But you will get up again. There will be a day when you want to dream again. There will be a day where you want to leave the house and find things that will bring you joy. And that’s okay. Smiling, laughing, or finding enjoyment in things does not mean you do not still love and miss your baby. It means that you are finding the courage and strength to keep going and sweet Mama, your baby in Heaven is so proud of you.
Motherhood is finding ways to include your baby in everything you do. It’s planting flowers, lighting candles, posting pictures, sharing memories. Motherhood is loving your baby unconditionally even though they are not here to physically receive that love. Mothering a baby in Heaven requires a greater, deeper love that only you can give.
My encouragement to you is to feel however you need to feel without shame or guilt. Take the time to heal and do not feel bad for saying no to things. You have experienced a great loss and there is no right way to navigate this journey. Don’t be afraid to ask for help and lean into those who love you. Most importantly Mama, remember that you are not alone.
Love, a mom who understands
meet the author
Hi! I’m Avery Swaringen, a Pediatric Speech-Language Pathologist. I live in Texas with my husband Seth and miniature goldendoodle Chewie. I am mom to our son, Hayes Daniel, who was stillborn on December 30, 2021.
Connect with Author: On Instagram @averyswaringen