A quiet space for the ones missing a child today. You are not alone here.
🌿 Table of Contents
💔 Still a Mother
You felt it before you opened your eyes.
That quiet heaviness. That ache beneath your ribs.
Today is Mother’s Day.
You stood in the kitchen this morning and didn’t know what to do with your hands.
You scrolled past the posts.
You smiled when someone said it—just to survive the moment.
You haven’t forgotten.
Your body hasn’t forgotten.
And love like that doesn’t disappear.
Even if no one says their name.
Even if no one says yours.
You are still a mother.
You don’t have to be okay today.
And you are not alone.
🫁 To the Mother Who Can’t Breathe Today
You’ve already made it through hours.
Maybe you answered messages.
Maybe you stayed silent.
Underneath it all, you’re holding something sharp.
The ache. The anger. The emptiness.
The weight of what should have been.
You might feel jealous. Then guilty.
You might feel nothing at all.
That doesn’t make you weak.
It makes you human.
Mother’s Day can feel like salt in a wound.
And still—here you are.
Breathing.
That’s enough.
🕊️ You Are Still a Mother
Even if no one says it.
Even if your arms are empty.
Even if your motherhood looks nothing like theirs.
You carried love—and you still do.
You show up for a child the world can’t see.
You keep going with a heart that has been torn open.
That’s not weakness.
That’s a different kind of strength.
You are still a mother.
Not in spite of the grief.
Because of the love that never left.
🤍 If You Love a Mother Who’s Grieving Today
Don’t just tell her she’s strong.
See her pain, too.
See the part of her that’s smiling and screaming at the same time.
The part that showed up to the party, but hasn’t breathed since she walked in.
The part that’s quiet—but carrying the weight of a lifetime.
You don’t need to fix it.
You don’t need the right words.
You just need to show up. And stay.
Say her child’s name.
Say you remember.
Say nothing, if that’s what the moment calls for.
But be there.
Her strength isn’t in pretending she’s fine.
It’s in feeling everything and still finding a way to move through the day.
Grief doesn’t need a rescue.
It needs a witness.
💬 From Mothers Who’ve Been There
“The world moved on. But I never stopped being her mom.”
—Mother of a stillborn daughter
“I mother in memories now. And in love that never left.”
—Mother of a son gone too soon
“Grief didn’t end. But neither did my love.”
—Anonymous
📩 If You’re Not Sure What to Say
It’s okay if you don’t have the perfect words.
You don’t have to fix her day.
But your message might be the one thing that reminds her she’s not alone.
Try this:
“I know today might be painful. I’m thinking of you and your baby. You’re still a mother. I see you.”
“No words—just love. I’m here.”
One honest message means more than a thousand silent scrolls.
📚 Suggested Reading
- Bonanno, G. A. (2009). The Other Side of Sadness: What the New Science of Bereavement Tells Us About Life After Loss. Basic Books.
- American Psychological Association. (2020). Grief: Coping with the loss of your loved one
- Worden, J. W. (2018). Grief Counseling and Grief Therapy (5th ed.). Springer Publishing.
Solviah 
💬 Share Your Voice
Have you supported someone through miscarriage or infertility? Or gone through it yourself? Your insight could be a lifeline for someone else.
Please share your story or encouragement in the comments below. You never know who might need it.