It’s been 10 years without my daughter.
On November 29, 2014, my daughter Ava was born. Without a heartbeat. Still. Now on her 10th heavenly birthday, a day after Thanksgiving 2024, I am conflicted with all the ways I should have or should be honoring her. I wanted to be on a trip – away from everything. Then I wanted to be home to simply be close to those I love that are here with me. Then, I just wanted to be alone – to go on a mother/daughter date. Yoga, spa, movies or a Broadway show. The things I would do for her, with her, were she still here.
These are all the real feelings that I’ve felt every Thanksgiving – remembering her in ways no one else can. I carried her to 33 weeks. My body changed and felt her grow. I birthed her – still. The body keeps score and I am here to tell you, it reminds you when you want to forget. The sights, scents and sounds seep in during this season and I am transported right back to that very day, that very moment.
On Threads I shared the story of the 72 hours in which I went from being pregnant with my daughter to being without my daughter and it sparked so much engagement and stories of other women (and men) sharing their own loss.
It is why I started This Season’s Gold shortly after losing Ava. I wanted to express my self outside of my grief – fashion, style, travel, all the things bloggers were doing back then. And while I still do, I realize that the community I built and have come to love so deeply grew as a form of having Ava in this unique way that I cannot change. I wanted to feel connected to women who understood this experience of loss, and be an uplifting voice. I also created Raise a Heart to solely focus on being a platform for women to land when they wanted to share their stories and not feel alone.
On this Thanksgiving, I am grateful I could make that happen these past 10 years. To grow a community of people to show that you can persevere in the face of adversity, loss and heartbreak. Grief is the crack in your spirit that never gets fixed, but being broken doesn’t mean you don’t work. You just learn to move differently through life with your brokenness – stronger, even.
If you’re still here reading, thank you. And if you’re feeling broken or alone, please know you are not. You’re here. Strong and thriving, even if it feels like you’re floating through a fog – you will see a clearing up ahead. I promise. And when those foggy days reappear, just wait for the sun to return. It will. It always does.
With love and gratitude,
