So much love.

I’ve never felt so much love before all this.  I thought I had- when I got married, when I was hospitalized (between the care packages and the visitors, I didn’t have time to be bored).  But I’m feeling it even more now.   Phone calls, texts and emails.  Comments on the blog.  Visitors who look at pictures. This is what gets me through the day.


“Condolence cards…  felt like oxygen, and only now do I fully understand why: to know that other people were sad made Pudding [my stillborn son] more real.” –Elizabeth McCracken


The cards have been pouring in.  And I savor every one.  I read the printed words and the handwritten ones.  It amazes me that there are so many different cards made to send to people who have lost a child, a baby, a daughter.  The have come from so many people.  My community has rallied- cards from people who I work with in the hospital and office.  I am surprised by some of them, people from other practices, people who came to calling hours, friend’s mothers and my parent’s friends, whom I’ve never met.  It’s lovely.  We now have a stack of cards next to Mabel’s photos and I want to tell her, see how many people wanted to meet you?  One of my midwives wrote in a text, “Amazing how attached one can feel with no time to get to know her.”  All this love makes me think of the times I didn’t send a card to someone.  That will change.  To know others are still thinking about me, about Chris and I, about Mabel, makes the days a little more bearable.


When people cry….. Hearing how others heard the news consoles me in a way.  Hearing how they cried when they heard about little Mabel.  Some still do when talking to me.  It helps.  Their tears make Mabel more real.  They validate my sadness.  This really did happen and it is really really sad.  It’s ok for me to be sad.  Because burying your child is one of the hardest things to do.  Because babies are supposed to live.  Because I have dedicated my career and lifestyle to help other people have babies and I should get one too. Because this just sucks.


I’m trying new things- the things that help others.  I did a hot yoga session with a friend (I should probably call it warm yoga- it was hot for me, but apparently it’s one of their coolest classes).  Yoga helps her distract and ease stress, so I gave it a try too.   I’ve also been invited to a dance-exercise class.  I have no rhythm, but I’ll probably try it.  My friends (and healthcare providers at that) want me back at bootcamp with them.  All good things to help clear the mind and rebuild the body.  People reaching out with what helps them, hoping it might help me.


And there is always the food.  I learned this early on in pregnancy, when my cousin brought two large containers of local ice cream.  And in the hospital- the chocolate, the cookies, the cheese that poured in.  People like to feed you when you’re pregnant.  They really like to feed you when you are hospitalized.  They can not feed you enough when you are bereaved.  Food has shown up on our doorstep.  From close friends locally to from my sister’s job in California.  Food is love.


At least while I wade through all sadness and grief, I have all this around me.  It doesn’t take my grief away, but it buoys me.  It reminds me that I’m not alone and that though I am so unfathomably sad, I am also loved.

7 thoughts on “So much love.

  1. Meghan…I have been reading your words, although I have no wise words of my own to share. Yes, it is really really sad and really really unfair! I am so sorry that your little family had go through this. You are in my thoughts every day.

  2. You don’t know me, but I’ve been following your blog for weeks now. I looked for you first in my blog reader every day, and I ached for you and your worry and quiet desperation as you walked the tightrope between your yearning to love this baby with your whole being and your fear at the devastation such wide open love could bring you. In the end of course, Mabel left you with no choice – such a precious gift could only be loved with abandon. During the few days between your last post before her birth and the post announcing her birth and passing, I told my husband all about you and how worried I was that you hadn’t posted that day, then the next, and how afraid I was that the baby had come…and gone. It broke my heart wide open when I read that this was true, and I’ve prayed for you since. I know that you and Chris are not terribly religious, and I certainly am not interested in using this time of vulnerability for you to push that on you. But I do want to tell you that I know in my deepest heart that sweet Mabel is right now in heaven, with a perfect body with none of the issues she faced while she was here. And I do pray that her sweetest gift to you will be to lead you to to the place where you can believe the same and have certain knowledge that you will see her again. You are so very loved, and not only by those around you here, but by a God in heaven who knows the pain of losing a child. I’m so sorry that this has happened to you and Chris, Mabel was perfect and beautiful, and you deserved to have a long life together. It’s not fair, and I’m just so very, very sorry.

  3. hi meghan; we also don’t know each other. a mutual midwife friend showed me your blog and i haven’t commented yet – but think i should have. you amaze me and i think of you and mabel often. i love looking at the picture of her tiny sweet little feet. she looks so beautiful and peaceful in the photos you posted. did she have strawberry blonde hair? it looks like it in the one of you holding her! i’m so sorry that you are going through this and didn’t get to keep her with you. i am thinking of you both and won’t forget her! thank you for writing about her and sharing your sweet baby with us.

  4. I have been thinking about you all so much and pondering what you wrote much earlier about everyone having a purpose. Yes, I’m sure it is true that Mabel paved the way for her siblings, but I think her purpose will become much bigger and more grand as time goes on. Her life will affect yours in ways you can’t even imagine right now. You will be a different practitioner and parent, wife and friend than you would have been without her. In years to come I think you will have moments when you know that whatever good has just transpired, will be because Mabel lived….an attitude, thought or gesture happened – or a path changed – because of her. I have looked at times in my own life and sometimes never understood the purpose until years later. Not everything is revealed when we want it to be. In my life, God has revealed purpose in His own timing. Never “now”, when I think I need to know. I pray that the purpose of Mabel, your beautiful little girl who only lived one day, continues to unravel throughout your life.

  5. I truly believe that you do not need to be close to someone to feel for them and have love for them! You are loved it is clear! I met you a few times and I knew the first time that you have amazing positive energy! People see that and that’s why they are rallying to support, care, and love you! I am still reading please keep sharing!

  6. Mabel touched so many lives! My friends in California wept when I told them the news. I check your blog every night to see how you are doing. I really appreciate you letting us in and sharing Mabel with us and I adore seeing pictures of her. Thank you.

  7. Thank you Meghan for sharing your story and Mabel with all of us all. I am so very sorry for your loss. I have a friend who recently had a stillbirth and your posts, and especially this post, are very helpful for me in learning to be a better friend to her during this time. So thank you again.

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