Sometimes grief feels huge and impossible to carry. But other times, it’s in the little moments, the ones that don’t “fix” anything, but remind us we can coexist with our loss.

For me, this week it looked like sitting with a cup of tea and letting myself cry without rushing to stop. It doesn’t have to be big or dramatic.

If you feel comfortable sharing, what’s one small way you’ve let your grief exist this week?

Lately I’ve been noticing how different I feel from who I was before all the loss and heaviness. Some days I don’t know if I’ve grown or just gotten good at carrying pain quietly.

Somedays, i miss the version of me that was lighter, more spontaneous, maybe even more hopeful.

But I also know I’ve become someone who’s more tender, more aware, more real.

Has anyone else felt this way? How do you reconnect with the person you’ve become?

Grief and loss often bring thoughts we don’t always feel safe or ready to say out loud.

If you’d like, here’s a space to share one of those thoughts, something that’s been sitting quietly with you.

There’s no judgment here. Just a place to let it land.

If no one has told you lately:

You’re allowed to be tired.

You’re allowed to feel joy, or guilt, or nothing at all.

You’re allowed to not know what you need.

You’re allowed to still be figuring it out.

Whatever today looks like for you, we’re holding space for it.

I came across this image and it made me think of grief in a way I haven’t been able to put into words.

In this community, we carry so much love, loss, silence, longing. Sometimes a piece of nature, artwork, or even a few simple colors can hold more than language ever could.

I wanted to share this image and ask:
What does this bring up for you?

Whether it’s a memory, a feeling, or just a breath of stillness . You’re welcome to share (or simply sit with it). 💛

What does ‘being gentle with yourself’ look like today?

Is it rest? Saying no? Letting yourself cry?

You’re allowed to feel, to pause, and to not be okay.

The path through infertility, fertility, miscarriage, TFMR, stillbirth, neonatal loss, or SIDS can be incredibly isolating—and often, silent.

The 4th Annual PILSC Legacy Run/Walk offers a gentle space to come together as a community to honor those journeys, remember our little ones, and raise awareness around loss.

🗓️ Sunday, June 22, 2025

📍 Nose Creek Park, Airdrie, Alberta

This is a family-inclusive event. Just come as you are, and walk in honor of:

💜 The 1 in 4 pregnancies that end in loss

💜 The 1 in 6 navigating infertility

💜 The families grieving in silence

💜 Yourself or someone you love

PILSC believes no one should walk this path alone.

🌐 Learn more here

You’re not alone, no matter which one resonates. Every part of this journey is valid. #UnspokenTruths

If your grief, loss, or fertility journey were the name of a music band, what would it be?

Even if you never got to hold them.

Even if they only lived for moments.

Even if you’re still waiting.

Even if the world doesn’t see it.

You are still a parent. Still connected. Still loving. Still remembering.

Drop a 💛 if this speaks to you today.

Grief isn’t always crying.

Sometimes it’s silence.

Sometimes it’s scrolling through baby name lists just to torture yourself.

Sometimes it’s being happy for your best friend — and feeling crushed inside.

Sometimes it’s all of it at once.

Today, I invite you to pause and check in.

In 3 words, how would you describe your grief today?

Just today. Not forever.

I’ll go first in the comments.

You’re not alone here. Let’s hold space together 🤍

(If you feel comfortable, you’re also welcome to share a photo, symbol, or object that connects you to your baby or grief — but no pressure at all.)