To the Woman Newly Navigating Stillbirth: A Message of Hope from 25 Years Along the Path

My Dear Sister,

I wish I could sit beside you, take your hand, and simply breathe with you. I know the heavy, quiet stillness of this moment. I know how the world feels too loud, too fast, and far too bright.

Today, February 18, 2026, marks 25 years since my son, Cooper, was born still on his due date. Even after a quarter-century, the memory of his weight in my arms is as soft and clear as a heartbeat. I am reaching across time to you as a sister who has carried this same love through 25 years of anniversaries and seasons. I want to hold a space of absolute grace for you today.

You Are, and Always Will Be, a Mother

The very first thing I want you to feel is the truth of your motherhood. You do not need a living child in your arms to be a mother. Motherhood is a state of the soul, a bond written in your DNA. You have carried, nourished, and birthed a life. That love has no expiration date, and it requires no proof. You are a mother, and you are held in the collective heart of every woman who has walked this sacred, difficult path before you.

The Things No One Tells Your Heart

In these early days, your body may feel like it’s in a state of biological confusion. As your milk comes in or your hormones shift, you might feel a deep, visceral ache that words cannot touch. You may also find that this loss acts as a soft light illuminating old, quiet hurts—those tender places from your own childhood or the stories of the women who came before you that have stayed silent until now.

Please know this isn't because you are "broken" or "weak." It is because your heart has been cracked wide open, and in that openness, everything within you is asking for gentle care.

Finding Meaning: The Gentle Sixth Stage of Grief

As author and grief expert David Kessler teaches, meaning doesn't make the loss "worth it," but it provides a way to move forward with love rather than just pain. Here's a link to David Kessler's book Finding Meaning: The Sixth Stage of Grief, which I find tremendously insightful, even now, 25 years later.

Ways I Have Honored Cooper (And Ways You Might, Too):

• A Sanctuary at Home: I created "Cooper’s Corner" in my backyard. There is a stepping stone there with his tiny handprint and footprints. It is my place to go when I want to be his mother in the silence.

  

• The Gift of a Book: For the first ten years after his death, I returned to the maternity ward where Cooper was born. On his birthday, I brought copies of Empty Cradle, Broken Heart: Surviving the Death of Your Baby to the hospital staff, asking them to give a book to the next mother who found herself in that same room. I wanted her to have a companion for the journey ahead, and to know—even in the depth of that initial silence—that she was not alone.

• A Living Legacy: I chose a beautiful, delicate Limoges box to hold some of his ashes—a small, tangible piece of art that reflects the beauty of his soul.

• A Public Remembrance: I invite you to search for local memorial gardens. In Charlotte, NC, I placed an engraved paver at Our Children's Memorial Walkway and in a Peace Garden at my living sons' Montessori school. There is something profoundly healing about seeing your child’s name etched into a place of beauty alongside others.

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  Somatic Wisdom: Returning to Your Rhythm

  As a clinical EFT practitioner, I see how trauma settles into the body when it has nowhere else to go. We don't "fight" this—we gently invite the nervous system back into a sense of safety and rhythm.

• The Healing Power of Nature: Step outside, even if only for five minutes. Let the morning sunlight hit your eyes. This simple act is vital for regulating your circadian rhythm, which is often shattered by the insomnia and "fog" of grief. Nature doesn't ask you to be anyone but who you are right now.

• Earthing and Being Held: Press your bare feet—or even your palms—into the grass. Let Mother Earth take the weight of your body. Let her hold you when you feel like you cannot hold yourself.

• The Soft Release of Shaking: When the weight feels like too much, try a very gentle "micro-shake." Just let your hands, arms, legs, and hips shake. Allow your body to move you. This is your body’s natural way of whispering to the nervous system, "The shock is passing. We are safe now."

• Tapping for Peace - A Resource for This Moment: Because I know how hard it is to find words when your heart is breaking, I have created a Free EFT Tapping Quick-Start Guide to help you along this journey. EFT Tapping is a gentle way to communicate directly with the survival center of your brain, helping to lower cortisol and soften the "shock" response in your body. This guide will walk you through the basic points and provide a gentle script to help you start processing this heavy energy right away.

  

[Download Your Free Tapping Guide Here]

How I Can Support You: Tending to the Tender Places

If the "unseen" parts of this journey—the echoes of the past or the heavy fog of trauma—feel like too much to carry, I am here to hold that space with you, as a clinical EFT practitioner specializing in reproductive trauma. I invite you to book a quiet, 30-minute heart-to-heart with me. We can explore if clinical EFT is the right next step for your healing.

Together, we can:

• Soothe the physical shock of the birth experience so your nervous system can find rest.

• Compassionately meet the younger parts of you that might feel overwhelmed.

• Tend to the inherited stories of the women in your family, bringing peace to the threads of the past.

Finding Your Tribe

If you are not ready for clinical EFT sessions, please reach out to others who truly understand. In the Charlotte, NC, area, I got involved with KinderMourn, an organization that was vital in connecting me with other local parents navigating this journey. On a national level, RTZ Hope or Share Pregnancy & Infant Loss Support offer beautiful communities where your story is honored, not "fixed."

Find one person who will let you speak your baby’s name without flinching. You deserve to be heard without having to put on a "brave face."

You are loved. You are a mother. And you are not alone.

With all my heart,

Janet