Warning, this has nothing to do with education and everything to do with that which makes us humans. It has to do with what shapes us, those life experiences that continue to haunt and fold our lives even long after they happened. It may be too personal for some, but I share the story nonetheless so that others may feel less alone.
Yesterday, you would have been a year. I am the only that knows that as others have moved on, away from the tragedy that is a pregnancy lost. That child of ours, a year full of firsts again, of sleepless nights, of crying fits, of moments captured by cameras and film. A year we never got.
And so I grieve privately. The world would not have known that yesterday was the day we should have welcomed you one year ago, celebrated the miracle that would have been you. I carried on, smiled over all of the blessings I do have, and I hugged Thea just a little bit more, knowing what a fine sister she would have been. They say that losing a child is the most awful thing that can happen to you. I never lost a child but I have lost the dream that becomes a child. And yet the grief you feel over a miscarriage numbs you, changes you, while the world turns and continues. It is so private, so hidden, particularly when it happens early, that you do not know what to do with your raw emotions, who to share it with, who to cry with. And so us mothers to be, who lose the baby, move on as if nothing happened. As if those days where we remember mean nothing special. As if our grief has melted away along with the memory of what could have been.
And yet, I carry it with me. I no longer cry, but I wonder what you would have been. I wonder what our family would feel like? How much more love there would be in this home? We are doing fine, life treats us with kindness, and yet, I wonder about you. Those dreams of you and what to do with them. Yesterday you would have been a year, and instead there is nothing. So this is to all those should-be mothers out there who have not forgotten, you are not alone, we remember together.
Yesterday, you would have been a year. I am the only that knows that as others have moved on, away from the tragedy that is a pregnancy lost. That child of ours, a year full of firsts again, of sleepless nights, of crying fits, of moments captured by cameras and film. A year we never got.
And so I grieve privately. The world would not have known that yesterday was the day we should have welcomed you one year ago, celebrated the miracle that would have been you. I carried on, smiled over all of the blessings I do have, and I hugged Thea just a little bit more, knowing what a fine sister she would have been. They say that losing a child is the most awful thing that can happen to you. I never lost a child but I have lost the dream that becomes a child. And yet the grief you feel over a miscarriage numbs you, changes you, while the world turns and continues. It is so private, so hidden, particularly when it happens early, that you do not know what to do with your raw emotions, who to share it with, who to cry with. And so us mothers to be, who lose the baby, move on as if nothing happened. As if those days where we remember mean nothing special. As if our grief has melted away along with the memory of what could have been.
And yet, I carry it with me. I no longer cry, but I wonder what you would have been. I wonder what our family would feel like? How much more love there would be in this home? We are doing fine, life treats us with kindness, and yet, I wonder about you. Those dreams of you and what to do with them. Yesterday you would have been a year, and instead there is nothing. So this is to all those should-be mothers out there who have not forgotten, you are not alone, we remember together.
Pernille Ripp 
Pernille,It's hard for me to comment on posts like this because I feel I just don't know what to say. I just want to thank you again for your honesty an transparency as a blogger. xxoo
I couldn't not comment on this post, it expresses my daily thoughts perfectly. I had the same milestone in August, and it was very, very difficult. While we remember, their spirit lives on.My thoughts are with you and your angel.
I feel much like Royan does right now. I'm not really sure what to say, but I just wanted to say that I'm thinking of you right now, and I'm glad that you shared all of you with all of us.Aviva
I am so sorry, Pernille.I have a close friend who is going through similar private pain. I will suggest that she read this. Maybe it will make her feel less alone.Thanks for sharing.kyle
Pernille,Thank you for sharing this very personal moment of your life. I admire your honesty in shedding light on the private pain of not only yourself but other women like you. Loss is loss and there is a need to mourn. Thinking of you.
Pernille,PowerfulThere aren't any words as Royan said. It spoke to me as yesterday was Yom Kippur and we say who will be born and who will die in the moving prayer "Unetane Tokef". Your post made me realize that there are those who will not be born. I don't know you personally but I share your pain and your honesty and openness inspire me. What I do know is that you are a very special person and may your prayers in the future be answered.
Thank you Pernille for your heartfelt honesty and openness. I can only imagine what you have gone through in the past year, a pain made all the more heartbreaking by its privacy. I know that your post will be powerful for all those who are going through the same grief. Thank you again.
Thanks for sharing this. I can relate, and I thank you for sharing this. It matters.
I don't know what to say. You express in some lines how I feel everyday. Thanks for posting.
Thank you