MSI Press Blog

From MidWest Book Review: Synopsis: "Compiled and co-presented by Pat Young and Joanna Romer, " Life after Losing a Child " tells the poignant stories of a dozen individuals who have suffered the loss of a child. and describes how they learned to heal. "Life after Losing a Child" shows readers who have suffered the loss of a loved on how to come to grips with the loss and handle the grief; how to engage in activities that help the healing process; and how to find the strength to move on. Critique: Exceptionally well organized and presented, "Life after Losing a Child" is especially recommended reading for anyone having to deal with the loss of a child -- as well as those wanting to know how they can help someone bereft and grieving the loss of a child. Simply stated, "Life after Losing a Child" should be a part of every community library collection in the country.

  Letting go is one of grief’s most misunderstood phrases. People say it as if it’s a destination—something you reach when you’ve “healed.” But after losing a child, letting go isn’t about release; it’s about learning how to hold love differently. 1. The Myth of Closure Closure suggests an ending, a sealed chapter. Yet love for a child doesn’t end. It changes form. The challenge is not to close the door on that love but to find a way to live with its absence—without losing yourself in it. Letting go, in this sense, means loosening the grip of guilt, regret, and self‑blame, not loosening the bond of love. 2. The Fear of Forgetting Many parents resist letting go because it feels like betrayal. If you stop crying every day, will that mean you’ve forgotten? If you laugh again, does that mean you’ve moved on? The truth is, memory and joy can coexist. Letting go is not forgetting—it’s allowing love to breathe without being suffocated by pain. 3. The Body’s Memory Grief lives in the body....

  After losing a child, the world often grows strangely opaque. People avert their eyes, conversations shift, and the ordinary rhythm of life resumes around you as if nothing has changed. You walk through grocery aisles, attend meetings, answer emails—but inside, you’re transparent. You exist, yet you feel unseen. 1. The Silence Around Loss Grief makes others uncomfortable. They don’t know what to say, so they say nothing. That silence can feel like erasure—as if your child’s life, and your love, have vanished from the collective memory. You begin to wonder whether your pain is visible at all. 2. The Disconnection of Identity Before loss, you were a parent with a living child. After loss, that identity becomes invisible too. You still feel like a mother or father, but the world no longer recognizes that role. Self‑compassion becomes the act of affirming your identity even when others cannot see it. 3. The Need to Be Witnessed Being seen is part of healing. When someone listens with...

  There are losses that rearrange the world. And then there is the one that erases it. When a parent outlives a child, time itself becomes disoriented. The calendar keeps moving, but the heart refuses to follow. You wake up in a world that feels wrong — not just empty, but misaligned , as if the laws of nature have been broken and no one noticed. The inversion of the natural order We’re built to imagine our children as the future — the continuation of our story. When that story ends too soon, the mind rebels. It keeps trying to rewrite the ending, to find the missing paragraph that would make it make sense. But there isn’t one. The loss of a child isn’t something you “get over.” It’s something you carry differently over time. The silence that follows People often don’t know what to say. They avoid the child’s name, afraid it will reopen the wound. But silence doesn’t protect a grieving parent — it isolates them. What helps is acknowledgment: “I remember her.” “Tell me about him.”...

Pregnancy after the loss of a child is not simply a new beginning — it’s a continuation of a story marked by both heartbreak and courage. It’s a season where joy and sorrow coexist, where every heartbeat carries memory as well as promise. 💔 The Emotional Landscape The moment a mother learns she is pregnant again, her heart often splits in two. One part rejoices — life returning, hope rekindled. The other trembles — fear of loss, guilt for moving forward, and the ache of what cannot be replaced. Grief doesn’t vanish with new life; it reshapes itself. The mother learns to hold both emotions at once — the love for the child she lost and the love for the one she carries. Each flutter in her womb becomes both comfort and reminder. 🕊️ Compartmentalizing for Survival Many mothers find peace through compartmentalization — a way to protect their sanity and honor both experiences. Grief has its space. It’s allowed to exist, to breathe, to be remembered. Pregnancy has its space. It’s nurture...