Mom to Dana

May 19th, 1981

Orange, California

After marrying my high school sweetheart and waiting for our college graduation and his graduation from medical school, we were more than ready to start a family two years after that.  After trying to get pregnant for more than a year, we were thrilled when I found out I would be having a baby the following summer.  Whirlwinds of buying maternity clothes_and outfitting the baby’s room occupied the first few months.  Oh, how happy and excited_we were!  But deep down, I knew something wasn’t quite right.  I had been having cramping since the third month.  And some blood spotting.  My doctor told me that most likely everything was fine.  But it wasn’t.

On May 19, when I was more than 6 months along, I experienced the worst pain imaginable both physically and emotionally. I lost my baby.  They called it a miscarriage and I wasn’t allowed to see the baby that was delivered – too small to live. To make things worse, I was told my baby was “flushed away” and that I was silly for wanting some sort of funeral service or memorial.

I was devastated. I felt empty. I didn’t think the sun would ever shine again. I didn’t want to go on.  Nobody understood.  I was alone.

I did not grieve properly.  I was told to “move on” with my life as if my baby’s life didn’t happen.  No one seemed to understand.  It seemed best to try not talk about it.  To try not to think.  To try not to feel.

And so, I buried the pain for many, many years.  Some say I was not the same after the loss of  my baby.  Some say it caused the breakup of my first marriage of 25 years – to the father of my baby.

A couple of years ago, I was watching a bird build her nest in our backyard.  Every morning I went out to check on the progress of the nest.  The mama bird was building her nest at eye level so I could see well each step of the way.  Finally the nest was built and the mama bird laid just one egg.   I waited with eager anticipation to see the baby bird come into this world. One morning I went out and I found the nest empty – no egg.  Nothing.  I saw the mama bird on phone wire nearby.  I was overcome with sadness – more than what would be normal for a situation like this.  I cried for hours.  My husband encouraged me to write my feelings down.  The words raced from my mind onto paper.  And then it finally became clear to me. The empty nest was symbolic (in my mind) of the loss of my baby years earlier.

Through the words I wrote down, I was finally able to grieve my loss.  And it was finally “okay” to grieve – to let it all out, to cry, to scream, to get angry and sad.  My husband has been in the music business for many years.  He took my words and composed a melody to go with them. My words became the lyrics to the song he wrote.  It’s called “The Nest.”

Click here to listen to the song:

Although the song is sad, it helped me work through my grief.  I am a happier, healthier person today because I finally grieved the loss of my baby that I lost almost exactly 30 years ago.

I invite you to listen to my song.  To those of you who share a loss similar to mine, please know that it’s ok to be sad, to grieve.  But, please, PLEASE do not be alone.  There are others who understand and can help you through this terribly difficult time in your life.

You can contact Cindy at

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  1. Hi Kristin, I’m so sorry to read your story. I too lost a child at 6 months. I was 28 weeks, and pregnant with a girl called Freyja. She was stillborn. The doctors don’t know why she died. I also lost two sons after her, and their deaths are mysteries too. I held my little girl after she was born. She looked like me. I’m still sad now (5 years later) that I didn’t send more time with her. xx

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