Friday, May 17, 2013


There is a feeling of emptiness that accompanies loss that is almost unexplainable. It's as if a deep canyon has opened up in your soul, splitting you down the middle.   You hear the bedrock of your heart crack and break as the hollowness tears you in half.   You are wide open, a hole of echoing darkness taking over what once was solid ground.   You feel not only impossibly empty, but also impossibly vulnerable.  You are like a hollowed out egg.  The shell that surrounds you is so fragile that you know even the slightest tap will cause you to crumble into yourself.  

You realize that in order to survive, you must fill the giant gash left behind.  You must find a way to become whole again.  You must find a way to fill the void.   So, you reach your arms out as far as they can go and you pull in anything of substance within your grasp.   Sometimes these things are healthy, sometimes they are not, but you don't care.  You shove them in, packing them into the emptiness, hoping that soon, you will feel complete again.   But, you don't.   It's not enough.  It's never enough.   No matter what you do or how you try to satisfy the emptiness, it will not go away.  Like a junkie, you always need more.  

Everything I am doing with my life right now is a direct attempt to fill the empty chasm inside.  The blog, the baking, the charities, the art.   If I buy another owl, maybe I won't feel so hollow.   If I write one more post, maybe the crack will close a little.   I need to paint another picture.  I need to help another mother.   I need to perfect another recipe.  I need to organize a fundraiser.  I need to plant a garden.   I need, I need, I need.  Thankfully, I have not been pulled towards less savory ways to fill this emptiness, but I can completely see why some women are.  You just want the constant pull of nothingness to let go of your heart.   You just want to feel whole again - and you will try anything to make that happen.

I don't know how to fill this emptiness.  I don't know what else I can do.  There is a giant hole inside me - a dark hollowness where there used to be light.  I try to find positive and meaningful activities to fill the void, but it's not enough.  She's gone.  This is what she left behind.


  1. You have described the emptiness of baby loss perfectly--it is something that others who have never experienced it will never understand. <3

  2. Hi Rebecca;

    I just want to say that i completely and totally identify with each and every one of your blog posts....I am so sorry that we have to endure this the loss of our precious baby girls...I lost my daughter 2 weeks ago today at almost 38 weeks and coming across your blog has been a blessing to me...i just wanted to let you know...god bless you