Sandy Jorgenson

Everybody who’s a parent can attest to the fact that the lives they once knew are far behind them.

I didn’t start out as a particularly easygoing person.

Griping about adulting is a fun thing that we like to do, I know.

When I check on our daughter before heading to bed myself, I have to do a quick scan around her full-size bed just to locate her. She is almost never remotely close to where she started out. But she is almost always upside down, head jammed up against the wall or her footboard, stuffed animals scattered like confetti all around her.

Whether this is news to you, seemingly irrelevant to you, or deeply personal to your experience, this truth remains that statistically speaking, one in every four pregnancies will end in miscarriage. Some of you are vaguely familiar with this, many of you have suffered this loss yourselves, and the likelihood is high that almost all of you know someone who’s lost a child in utero, whether or not they’ve ever spoken publicl about it.

...[O]ur very responsibility is to equip them with everything they need before we shove them out of the nest and watch their wings spread far and wide... But what, then, is left for us?

Two years ago, I had a two-year-old daughter who’d never met her grandfather.

But what can be said for the day upon which I am no longer enough? I dread that day.

Why are people so mean?