I lost my daughter.  That is my truth.

Once I got over the initial shock of her loss, and accepted that truth, I knew I had two real choices on how to move forward.  I could face the future with bitterness, resentment and consider her loss the only defining factor in my life.  Or, I could move forward with love, empathy, understanding and really strive to make sense of her loss.

I chose to turn her loss into love.  I chose to love harder, empathize more and make her life meaningful.  I realize this can very well be the unpopular choice.  I also recognize that as I worked through the grief process (and continue to do so), of course I was angry.  I was destroyed.  I could not wrap my mind around the plaguing question, of “why me”?  To this day, and probably for the rest of my life, I will have unexpected days or waves of anger, where I find myself wrapped up in a bad mood and I can’t quite figure out why- until, I realize I just need a moment to cry.

I miss her.  While she will always be the part of me that is missing, I know even in her loss, I have to remain true to myself.   I’ve always been a person who looks for the silver lining, looks on the brighter side of things, knows there is always sunshine after the rain, even when you have to look extra hard for it.   I have to believe my daughter would want me to keep my hope and resilience.  She would not want her death to be the single thing that ruins me.

So, I move forward.  I move forward with her memory.  I move forward with love.  I move forward with tenderness and empathy and a purpose.  Regardless of whether or not she is here with me now, she was here with me briefly.  I am her mother.  That is my purpose.  And I want to be the kindest and most loving mother I can be, because that’s who I would’ve been for her – and that’s who I am now.

So, while I realize that this is not everyone’s journey or everyone’s choice, it is mine. I choose the road less traveled.  I choose a road filled with love, laughter, healing, understanding and warmth.  All of the ways in which I would’ve loved her has fueled my need to love others.

I lost my daughter.  That is my truth.  How I choose to react – that is my choice.

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Ashleigh McDonald

I’m 28 and live in Providence, RI. I work in marketing specializing in social media and creative content.Quinn Beverly is my only child, whom I lost unexpectedly around my 8th month of pregnancy ultimately due to heart failure.I have a 3 year old collie/shepherd mix named Athena who keeps me plenty busy in my off-time.I eagerly look forward to football season every year- go Pats!I spend my time with family, friends and try to give back in Quinn’s memory whenever I can.I carry her memory with me every day and have been vocal on my personal social media channels about both her life and my struggles.By being open and vulnerable, my hopes are to removethe stigma surrounding infant loss while also hopefully helping others who have also suffered a similar loss.

Latest posts by Ashleigh McDonald (see all)

• Being More Than Bereaved - April 29, 2019
• Now What? - July 9, 2018
• The Road Less Traveled - March 12, 2018