Keeping Their Memory Alive After Loss

'Love never ends,' a lesson I learned after loss. Read the story, 'Our 7 Babies Missing From the "Family Photo", Never From Us,' by Carmen Grover, a mother’s story of grief and light.

Welcome to the Grief Stories community! I hope you find this to be a welcoming place where you’ll be able to share experiences, get things off your chest, support one another, ask questions, and chat to people who truly ‘get it’. I invite you to read and share stories of hope and healing; giving a voice to loss and grief. This is a safe place helping us to feel less alone on our journey and providing comfort in hard times.

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A few years ago, I was at a Christmas market with my husband and some friends when the song “It’s the most wonderful time of the year” started playing. Suddenly, a wave of grief hit me. My mum and I used to visit Christmas markets every year, and in that moment - surrounded by lights and laughter - I felt the ache of knowing I’d never share that tradition with her again.

Christmas can feel overwhelming when someone you love is missing. What helped me that day was simply allowing myself to feel it. As I cried, a friend quietly held my hand - no advice, just presence. It made the weight a little lighter.

Since losing my mum over a decade ago, I’ve learned that people often stay silent not because they don’t care, but because they’re afraid of saying the wrong thing. Sometimes a hug says more than words. And as Christmas approaches, I’m reminded how important it is to share stories of our loved ones and keep them close.

Jessica Bourne, in her story ‘How to Love With Grief’ featured in the Grief Stories series, offers gentle ways to stay connected: “light a special candle, have photos of them hanging up, and visit their grave frequently with cards and gifts for their birthdays and Father’s/Mother’s Day.”

I’m always grateful to the brave grievers who share their hearts in the Grief Stories series. Today, we hear from Carmen.

In this month’s story, Carmen Grover shares her journey through heartbreak and a grief that often goes unseen. It’s a raw and honest reflection of a mother transforming profound loss into love, meaning, and hope - inviting the world to recognise the children who lived in her, shaped her, and continue to shine through her.

Carmen is a mother to twelve babies, one’s on the way, and an infant and pregnancy loss doula who advocates for bereaved parents to feel seen, heard, and validated.

I’m deeply grateful to Carmen for her courage and vulnerability. Her story reminds us that speaking our loved ones’ names keeps their memory alive in a powerful, meaningful way.

If her story speaks to your heart, I’d love to hear what resonated with you.

‘Our 7 Babies Missing From the “Family Photo”, Never From Us’ by Carmen Grover

Grief Story #020

Hi, I’m Carmen, and I’m a mama to twelve babies, four beautiful living babies, with one on the way and seven that are not physically here. When I look at our family’s portrait and see six of us (plus a bump) something never feels right, especially when I say we have had eleven babies (plus the one within) without any further explanation.

The family photo is a reminder that our picture isn’t everything; there can be a deeper story behind it. Just as families can share their pictures of their living babies, I wish to share the lives of our dead babies who live on through us.

Pregnancy loss is a difficult topic in our society. Still, it’s not going away, it can’t be fixed, and that is hard and stumps us, but it can also be a gift if we are allowed to share our babies. I find that talking about it helps. People sometimes say they can’t imagine, and we know you can’t. I always want to tell them not to say, “I’m so sorry for your loss,” but instead say, “Thank you for sharing your story.” Yet when they say something, it is better than saying nothing, because in not saying anything, we feel like maybe our baby just vanished or evaporated. And I’m here to say that they haven’t been erased, nor will they ever be.

We don’t always have to talk about the sadness of our babies, because their lives were beautiful. And perhaps after such loss, we are now less numb to the little things, the signs in life. Like the bloom of a magnolia tree or a bird that won’t leave you alone, sweetly singing. These are irrational-sounding things, but they can be really real for a grieving parent. The signs aren’t nothing. I will always be looking for the signs and symbolism. Like how I saw a heart in a stone. Our babies and what they send us make me know we are not alone. Now I hold onto hope. And this is why our stories, our real thoughts, need to be shared, so others know they are not alone.

Feelings are often all we have, all we are left with, and when those feelings can be validated, so too can we be validated, and our babies, and it’s how we begin to heal. I’m different because of them, and I’m here because of them! It’s why I kept the letters I wrote to them, stories to each of the babies I’ve ever held, because their stories are so important. I actually want to share about my babies; that’s why I’ve written a whole book to honour them and their lives.

Some may say that they never lived, yet they lived in me. I know I “did everything right” with the babies I lost, but I do still wonder, was it that hot bath, that magnet bracelet I wore, the sandwich I ate? These are very real questions for a mom experiencing baby loss. We know deep down it’s nothing we did, but again, our minds can take over. We need to know the answers, we need to know the reasons, because we need hope.

Each baby gave me hope in my life. I needed each baby to keep me going and to get me where I am today. They all served a greater purpose. I can’t believe it, but I would say I’d do it all over again if it meant I got to have what I have now. Amity gave me friendship, Will gave me hope, Kaia gave me pure beauty, Baby G gave me more spirituality and letting go, Case gave me yoga, Maelie gave me meditation, Butterfly Baby allowed me to start seeing and believing in the signs, Jude gave me writing, Ayda gave me soul, Zach gave me connection, and Charlotte brought me slowing down and pure delight in the little things.

Loss moms hate the saying “things happen for a reason,” because our babies were our reason.

Over the years, I’ve asked so many times, why me and why so many times. But I’ve realized that maybe it’s now to offer hope. Maybe it’s to be here right now. I’m not here to educate pregnancy loss moms, because unfortunately, we all get it and share a language of deep love. I’m here to help others try to understand. Not to scare, not to worry, but to change our culture around babies dying and what it means to loss parents to be able to talk about our babies and to say their names. We still want to include them in our lives.

We live on in our kids, and that’s why my babies must be shared for the next generation. We can’t take away the pain, but we can learn to support each other, stand by, nurture, care for, and release the pain. The fear of loss never leaves, but as for the pain, we can let it rest when it gets too heavy and let it play when we need distraction. For there will be happiness and life again. And we will always be there for our forever babies.

So this is my hope…to change the darkness of pregnancy loss into light. To shine the light of my babies in the hopes that others can understand. And so we can meet each other with compassion. We can say, thank you for sharing your story and for sharing your baby with us. You won’t remind us of our pain. You will remind us of our own babies’ lives. And that will forever continue to mean the world to us.

Grief Story by Carmen Grover

Friend, have you ever felt unsure about what to say to someone experiencing loss? How might this story influence the way you show up for someone who is grieving? Have you ever felt comforted by symbolic signs or small moments during grief?

Carmen Grover is a mother to 12 babies, nurse, yogi, farmer, infant & pregnancy loss doula and journal-keeper turned writer. She lives for her family, adventure, spiritual moments, and lakes. She is passionate about sharing her voice and comforting other families who have been down the difficult road of pregnancy loss, and feels that she has found her purpose, one given to her by all her babies. Carmen currently resides in Ontario, Canada with her husband and their children.

Her book, A Diary to My Babies: Journeying through Pregnancy Loss, brings light to the shadows of pregnancy loss and affirms that grief has no prescribed path. Through her story, Carmen hopes to offer solace and healing to those who share this path.

You can connect with Carmen on Instagram.

If Christmas feels hard this year, I’ve created a free Gentle Guide for Grieving Hearts: When Christmas Looks Different that you can download here.