Dear Momma: a letter to a mom in loss

A Love Letter for the Days You Can’t Breathe

There are no words big enough to hold what you’re feeling.
No sentence strong enough to carry the weight of your shattered world.
No timeline that can wrap healing into a neat, tidy bow.

You lost your baby. And nothing will ever be the same.

Let that be said.

Let the world pause here for a moment—to sit with you, cry with you, and whisper softly:

You are not alone. This is heartbreak. And it matters.

🌒 Grief is Not a Detour. It Is the Road Now.

Grief doesn’t show up politely. It arrives like a storm, uninvited and unforgiving.
One minute you’re standing in the kitchen, and the next, you’re on the floor with a sob stuck in your throat, wishing you could go back in time.

This is real. And it’s okay to not be okay.

You don’t have to rush through it. You don’t have to perform strength.
Crying is not weakness. Cancelling plans is not failure.
It’s survival. And some days, that is more than enough.

🕊️ You Did Nothing Wrong

If guilt tries to creep in—silence it with truth.

You are not to blame.
You are not broken.
You loved that baby more deeply than words could hold.
And love like that doesn’t vanish when life takes a cruel turn.

That love still lives in you.

🪶 You’re Still a Mother

Your arms may feel painfully empty, but your motherhood is real.

Every heartbeat, every hope, every whispered prayer for that baby—etched into eternity.
You became a mother the moment love took root. That title cannot be taken from you.

And yes, you’re allowed to say their name. You’re allowed to miss them forever.
You’re allowed to celebrate their memory, light candles, write letters, and tell the world:

I carried life. I still carry love.

🤍 There Is No “Moving On”—Only Moving With

Eventually, you may smile again. You may laugh. You may even hold life in your arms once more.

But none of that means you’ve forgotten.
You don’t move on from a baby. You carry them. In stories. In tears. In anniversaries. In dreams.

And with every sunrise, you are doing the bravest thing:
You’re learning to live again while grieving what was lost.

That is love in its rawest form.

🌷 We See You Here on the Queendom

We hold space for you in this sacred season. We cry with you.
We honor your baby. We speak their memory.
And when you're ready, we walk beside you—not to pull you out of your grief, but to remind you that you are still here. Still worthy. Still deeply, fiercely loved.

If you’re not ready for the world, that’s okay.
But if you are — even just a little — we’re here to walk with you, one soft step at a time.