Losing you tore my world apart. Your death laid bare a desolate landscape on which I lay for years, fighting to breath in the broken, painful place called life after loss.

My sweet baby girl, losing you was hell on earth.

I would still choose you.

Your life with me was so incredibly brief. You were like the sun, streaming beauty into a world gray and shadowed. You filled my world with brightness and warmth.

When you left, the gray, shadowed cold took over again. I wasn’t sure I would survive the loss of you. I almost didn’t.

I would still choose you.

For whatever reason, you couldn’t stay here with me. I only got to be your mother on earth for a painfully short time. I ache and long to hold you close, to have you near, and to mother you in all the ways I dreamt of mothering.

But I couldn’t keep you. So I am left to mother the memory of who you were and who you would have been. I am your mother, invisible though my motherhood might be to the world around me.

I would still choose you.

People told me it just wasn’t meant to be, you and me together. People said someday I would have another baby who would stay here with me to live and breathe and be. People claimed there must be a reason for this loss and a gift to find in it.

But I would still choose you.

Baby girl, you are enough. You cannot be replaced. You were meant to be. You were meant to be my baby. You were reason enough to love. You were my gift.

I would not trade my time with you for anything in time and space, heaven or earth. You are my daughter. I will always be your mother. I will love you for always. I will miss you all my days.

If I could choose from all the babies in the world, if I was offered the choice to give up the time I had with you for the certainty of a living baby, I hope you know this:

I would still choose you.

Your death broke my world to pieces. Your life saved me, before and after your death. Your life gave and continues to give life meaning. You are still my gift.

I will always choose you.

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Emily Long

Emily Long is the mother of two much-loved daughters, both gone-too-soon. Several months after the death of her fiancé, their daughter Grace was born still. For many years, Emily lived with this loss in silence and isolation. It wasn’t until she experienced the death of her second daughter, Lily, that she finally sought support and created a community of people who helped her find the beauty and joy in life again. Through her own healing process, Emily became an advocate for all families grieving the loss of their children. Emily is a grief counselor in private practice and the author of the upcoming book, “Invisible Mothers.”

Emily works hard to increase education and improve care for bereaved mothers with medical professionals and other counselors. She also works with clients individually to provide support for grieving mothers and fathers. She writes and educates through her website, Emily Long: Archaeologist of the Living.

Latest posts by Emily Long (see all)

• I Should Know Them Now - May 29, 2017
• Stolen Memories - March 8, 2017
• Receiving Support - October 14, 2016