Thursday, December 6, 2012


What do I say in that inevitable moment that is to come?

“Do you have kids?”

“No.” A lie. A disservice to my beautiful girl. Yet, the easiest way out.

“Yes, she’s 3 months." Another lie. Though she would be. 

“Yes, she’s dead.” Truth. But so, so callous. And inappropriate.


I do not welcome your feedback unless you too have walked this road, have struggled this struggle, have lived this nightmare. Perhaps this is harsh, but only you, mother of my heart, will understand that each word chosen in this moment, though simple, holds so much weight. Each word speaks to a life that was lived, but is no longer here. Each word tells the entire story of a little girl, my little girl, my Quinn. And so, you can see, why these words must be chosen so carefully and so deliberately.

I am not ready to choose these words, to speak them aloud just yet. And so, I sit in the stillness and warmth of my home, my safe place, and dream of her. I dream of her beauty, of her button nose, the delicate curve of her lips, so like her daddy’s, of her hands and feet, so large and awkward in comparison to her delicate face and body, of the feel of her cheek upon my lips as I kissed her for the first time, of her fingers curled around mine, of the soft, downy feel of her perfectly round head, covered only by a light fuzz, a testament to the curls it would have held.
I sit and I close my eyes and hear the echo of her laugh. A bubbling and full laugh, free from being tainted by the troubles of this world. Pure and utter joy, that girl.
I sit and see her looking at me, pausing for a moment from her dancing and skipping, her round eyes wide, her brow furrowed, but a smile dancing at the corners of her mouth. And in her 4-year-old simplicity, she cups a hand around my face and she says to me,

“Don’t be sad, Mommy. I’m not sad!”

I’m trying, my girl, I’m trying. For you, I’m trying. 


  1. I have walked this road, 20 years later then you but I know how hard a road this is to go
    down. You will always be Quinns mother and no one can or has the right to try to make you feel different. I too struggle with the question of weather I have kids , and I say yes :) now, I use our story to help others if I can and Miss Thrifty, you in time will be able to the same thing. Take your time ,my prayer for you is Lord put your loving arms around this beautiful young lady and hold her tight.

  2. this journey is a hard one. Been there 32 years ago. Ours was a daughter, Angela, whom, because of the era, we never got to hold or see. There really are no words to say, or advice to share, only to know that God has us in his hands and He is the one who is our hope and strength for each day. Sorrow, anger, sadness, wondering why, growth and then a different perspective are all wrapped in one. Along the way our journey, it does change, and our emotional response is different, but the journey continues. The memories are always there and we can treasure those. Thanks for sharing your story. Lots of love and prayers.

  3. I always say I have 3 brothers. And when people say I have 2, I correct them. You definitely have a daughter.

  4. Deanne, I still struggle with those answers (8 1/2 years later). Yes I have a son, in heaven with his Grandpa Pauls and his Grandma Neufeldt. I still miss him and wonder if he would love to read and play sports like his daddy, if he would beg to ride the combine. I wish I had taken more pictures when he was born, I wish I could have held him longer, I wish...
    Kathy said it well.
    Praying for you, Daniel and your families.