You Are Braver Than You Believe

“Promise me you’ll always remember: you’re braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”

When we are hurting, these words from Christopher Robin to Winnie the Pooh are easy to forget. At some point in our lives, we each need reminding. It is in those moments we find ourselves leaning into another person (a friend or sometimes a complete stranger) who in their compassion and love reminds us.

We ARE brave. We ARE strong. We ARE smart. No matter how fearful, weak or broken we may feel in that moment.

Sunshine After The Storm

Sunshine after the Storm: A Survival Guide For The Grieving Mother strives to do just this, sharing honestly and with compassion the journey of a mother’s heart after the loss of a child , be it to miscarriage, stillbirth or early infant loss.

The book is free on Kindle until October 17th, 2013 and it’s authors would love to see it in the hands of as many people as possible. Mothers. Fathers. Spiritual leaders. Medical professionals. This heartfelt and inspiring collection is for anyone who finds themselves in the midst of loss.

My essay in Chapter Three, “The Things People Say”, is born of my personal experiences with repeat miscarriages, my struggle to ask for the things I needed, to forgive and to receive. In all, the book offers more than twenty “survival tips” and thirty unique perspectives from moms with both shared and varied experiences of infant loss and healing.

You may never know which of your friends this book is meant for, as in loss, most tend to hold their hurt close to the chest, which is why I am asking you to help us help others feel less alone in loss by sharing this link far and wide.

Thank you from the backside of my healing heart for passing this along, that another mother (or yes, another father) in their loss might feel less alone.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.



When we follow our bliss, anything is possible. I hope you walk with me and other moms here because motherhood (and life) is better when we’re holding hands.

Related Posts:

Miscarriage and Loss


“How to explain the inner workings of a mother’s heart who just knows there is another child waiting to be born to her?”


Waiting from Generation Mindful on Vimeo.

You do not need to have lost a child to know what it is to question, to doubt yourself, or to hope against all odds for a miracle.

This is my story from the magical day I presented it live in front of hundreds in my home town of St. Louis Missouri, and on Mother’s Day no less. I hope it speaks to your heart in some small way. More than anything, I hope my story encourages you to ask whatever it is that is on your heart, to listen, and to follow — even if (especially if) it doesn’t make “sense” to your head.

What is on your heart today? Do you know what it is to wait? What questions have you been asking and what, if anything, are you hearing in return? I know it takes something to share, but I’d love to hear from you below.



I write here and on My Mommy Manual‘s Facebook page about the connection we are, reminding myself and others to look inside for instructions. I also write about the spiritual journey that is life after loss at In The Face Of Loss and Pinterest as well. If you are a fan of conscious parenting and education, please join me and others at Generation Mindful and here on Instagram where we advocate for PLAY, and helping the generations to slooooow down and to simply connect.

Related Posts:

Time to Mourn

I Don’t Want to do Something Wrong

Growing in Motherhood

Rainbow Babies

photo (3)


I am not the same person I was before miscarriage, before our angel babies Leo, Mary, Tucker, Lily and Nina forever rocked my world.

I feel my angel babies making a difference every time I sit down to write to you.

I feel them in my heart when my second daughter tells me how she feels her angel brothers and sisters are looking out for her.

I feel them when our eldest daughter, now twelve, draws her family portrait at school with me, her dad, her two sisters and brother and herself surrounded by five cupcake stickers; the stickers she only later tells me are her angel brothers and sisters.

And I feel them when, last month, celebrating fifteen years of marriage, I experienced a love there between my husband and I, stronger in spite of (or maybe even because of) the times we pushed away from one another, grieving so much loss together but more often, separately.

I am remembering my baby angels today, something I usually do privately or maybe here with you or with other angel mamas; but today I will do this publicly, with friends and family and some that may not quite understand why.

I will do this because October 15th is a day for the world to remember angel babies and the ones they left behind, that we may know we are not alone.

If you have lost a child, know that I and many, many others are remembering with you today. We want to wrap you in love and light. We want to listen to you. We want to say your baby’s name aloud.

Write your angels name below and we will say it aloud with you, that all those that come here know, your angel is remembered.



By Suzanne Tucker, co-creator of My Mommy Join her and other moms on this journey called motherhood, because life’s better when we hold hands.

I Don’t Want to Do Something Wrong…

My friend Desi wrote to me last night wanting thoughts on how she might best support a friend:

My girlfriend just lost her baby. She was around 27 weeks. I don’t know what I need to do. I am going to mail a card tomorrow, but I don’t want to do something wrong at this sensitive time in her life. What can I do for her?

I love my friend. She is the mom of two, her baby just months old. She has never lost a child, but in her compassion, she is reaching out to learn how she might best support her friend. This is the sort of person everyone deserves to have in their life when bad things happen. I was (am) lucky enough to have friends and family like Desi, but so, SO many are not.

Here is what I wrote back, my immediate reply to a friend asking for advice. It took me all of about 48 seconds to write… and instead of adding to it or making it pretty, I thought I’d share with you just as it was, not in spite of its unedited-ness, but because of  it. (Sometimes our heads just get in the way…)

do listen. just listening, with your whole heart, without a need to make it better or make it go away… this is the most powerful thing you can do.

do be compassionate in your listening. you do not need to have had a loss to be of comfort to her.

do tell her you are sorry. that you are thinking of her. over and over, many times. those are really the best words. you can tell her in a card, in a gift, in a phone call, in a meal you drop by.

avoid fresh flowers. they die and can be a sad reminder when eventually they need to be thrown out.

ask her how she is. talk to her about her baby and call her baby by her baby’s name.

never feel you are best not mentioning it because you don’t want to “remind her” because, trust me, she won’t have forgotten and likely she is thinking about it anyway.

do not give her advice on how to feel. ever. things like “everything happens for a reason” or “at least you have another child” or “well, your baby is in a better place.” These words ring empty and do not comfort most in their loss.

do sit with her while she cries. drive over to give her a hug if she lives in town; even if she tells you she is okay and doesn’t need you to do this, hug her.

do ask if you can buy a plant or a tree for her to plant in her babies memory so she can see it’s life cycles and remember her sweet baby angel with each passing season.

do offer to help organize the memorial service. a balloon release or something of this sort where all can remember her baby with her. lots of ideas online.

do put this on your calendar for this time next year. remember this day with her then as she will be thinking about it. it may be a tough month even. likely nobody else in her world will be remembering along with her (unless she is really good at creating this sort of support in her life) and you remembering for and with her… this is a great, great gift.

give the gift of you. your heart. your listening. your tears. your understanding. your permission for her to grieve. she may denying these very things to herself. i know i did.

you are a real gift in her life. you are a good friend to even ask.


What would you have replied? (And thank you ahead of time. I plan to add your thoughts to JOURNEY.)




PS: Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day is coming up October 15th. This might be a nice time to remember a friend’s loss for and with them.


I believe that when we follow our bliss, anything is possible. If you know what it is to lose a child, be it to miscarriage, stillbirth or early infant loss, I hope you will walk with me and other moms here, because this journey we are on is better when we are holding hands. Join and receive email support and inspiration for the journey of life after losing a child.

This Is My Intention

I know this feeling. I have another something growing within me. This something has a soul. I’m not pregnant (with a baby anyway) but something is definitely growing. 

It’s still new for me to say it out loud, but I’m going to say it anyway. I am writing a book. A companion journal for mother’s who know loss be it to infertility, miscarriage, stillbirth, early infant loss or any other. Loss is loss.

I can see the journal so clearly, how it will look and even how it will feel to hold; to write in. This book will be covered in pretty things, tied with a ribbon and a promise to hold all it contains forever close. This book will be a place for mother’s to feel less alone, to capture memories and search their hearts, unearthing the treasures that await them there. Gifts for them alone.

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said “Life is a journey, not a destination.” And so it is for healing, more a way than a place one arrives. Being with our grief is a worthy journey. Though not popular in our culture, being intimate with our suffering has the power to bring peace and healing. This is the inspiration for this companion journal.

After seven years of living in my journal alone, this book is unfolding. It begins with a chapter on stillness and ends with a chapter on sharing. Each of the book’s five chapters includes stories, quotes, and poems followed by big, beautifully illustrated open spaces to journal.

Writing this companion journal is part of my healing journey to be certain. In 2005 we lost our first son. Leo took flight and left me with a heart full of pain. About a week into my struggle to accept our loss I experienced what I can only describe as a calling. It happened like a tap on my shoulder, a tap that spoke to my heart even though it made no sense to my head. I was supposed to write about my journey with loss.

I doubted this tap. I though, “Who is gonna want to read about my life?” But I started to write anyway. With pen to paper, I wrestled with my life and searched for answers to the questions that filled me.

Six months after losing Leo, one miscarriage turned into two. Turned into three. I was down on my knees and the call got louder. I wasn’t doubting anymore. Turned into four. Turned into five.  Somewhere in the middle there, I started to believe. I was supposed to make time for my grief to live; to  hold love present to my pain that I may be called ever closer to the fullness of life; to share my story and to listen to the stories of others with out judgment or conditions. I was supposed to tell my story.

The chapters are taking shape, miraculously, like little baby fingers and little baby toes. If this book were a baby I think I’m somewhere near the end of my first trimester. An early spring birth, 2014, in time for Mother’s Day and the anniversary of Leo’s passing. I hope so anyway.

It takes a team to have a baby and I am very clear, it will take no less to bring this book to life. I hope you will be there for the long haul so together we can wonder at it’s creation into being.

In my next post I’ll show you a picture of how I see this companion journal looking. Like an eight week ultrasound, this picture will give you a glimpse of what I hope this ‘lil angel will look like one day soon. I can’t wait to show you. (I think it’s going to have my husband’s nose…)






I believe that when we follow our bliss, anything is possible. If you are a mother that knows loss, I hope you walk with me and other moms that know what it is to grieve as well. This journey we are on is easier when we are holding hands. Join for support and inspiration for the journey of life after loss.

Not For a Reason

I do not believe that everything happens for a reason. I used to say this, but I don’t anymore.

If everything happens for a reason, would it not follow that there is but one reason for the things that happen? What if my reason and your reason don’t match? Who gets to name it?

How can we apply reason to all the unreasonable things that happen in this world and to what purpose?

For most all of us who have lost a child, these words ring empty. Though meant to comfort, they leave us with more questions than answers, directing us in our grief to search our minds for what possible reason could exist to explain our pain.

Rather, I would offer that everything in life can have meaning. Why get stuck thinking about reason when we can turn to the heart of the matter for meaning instead? In meaning, we can have endless interpretations; my meaning different that your meaning, though neither one right or wrong in the naming of it.

For me and in my life, even the most tragic of events have had the power to draw me deeper into the fullness of life. In each, I have found meaning.

How about you? What do you believe?

To join other mothers walking with loss, click here.


By Suzanne Tucker, co-creator of My Mommy Join her and other moms on this journey called motherhood, because life’s better when we hold hands.

Go Tell Them All I Did Not Die…

Tears. Puddles. Choking feeling in my throat as I just clicked on this song, written for another mother with an angel baby. Baby Jack. Taken early in his life at just nine days old.

The song moves through me. Around me. Lifts me up even as it tears me down. The pain is still there (when I allow it.) This song brings me there. My breath carries me through it.

Thank you Spirit for this beautiful reminder today of my babies in heaven. [Read more…]

How to Hurt

We all grieve in our own way. Add to that, there is no right or wrong way to grieve and you have two basic truth’s about grief that I discovered (and ultimately accepted) after much, much resistance.

My husband and I have had five miscarriages. A lot of living went into that simple sentence. Starting today, I am writing about my experiences with loss here on My Mommy Manual.

What I’m REALLY writing about is acceptance (or the lack there of) in my life. Acceptance. This is what life has been asking of me and teaching me all at the same time. Maybe you’ve had a miscarriage, or maybe you haven’t, but most likely you’ve experienced loss in one way or another.

As I write this we are grieving as a nation. Less than a week ago there was a tragic shooting spree in Tucson Arizona – six people killed and 13 injured. One of the dead includes a nine year old little girl. She was senselessly murdered, taken in a flash with no warning. Her parents will never tuck their daughter into bed again, never kiss her sweet forehead or hold her hand; denied even a last “I love you.”

We all hurt for this terrible, terrible tragedy. So many lives affected by one young man who picked up a gun and began to shoot. When unthinkable things happen, how do we find the strength to keep on living?

The following is an except from a book I am writing on acceptance and though it is written specifically for women healing through miscarriage, this conversation is for us all. I hope you’ll return weekly as we take this conversation to the next level. Ultimately, I’d like to add your insights to my book. Through our sharing, may we live ever more fully, a life of acceptance.

Here is the first section. Thank you for joining me in this, what I hope will be a dialog between us. I look forward to your comments.



“Be gentle with yourself. Treat yourself like you would a best friend or a beloved sister. Go slowly. We’re almost always hardest on ourselves.

And if EVER, as you read this book and/or reflect on your life, you find you are beating yourself up, stop! See if instead of judging yourself for judging yourself, you can take a deep breath. Say these words aloud or in the silence of your mind, “We all grieve in our own way. There’s no right or wrong way to grieve.”

Can we find purpose and meaning in all things that happen in our lives?  Do gifts or blessings really ever come from challenging experiences?  Can we be happy even if the things happening in our lives are not? If so, how?

These are the questions I’d like to explore with you in the chapters (posts) to come.

By sharing my experiences with miscarriage, my many struggles with acceptance and ultimately, the blessings I have received along the way, may I be a support to you as you live, heal and take time to be with your life experiences as well.”


Suzanne Tucker, publisher of and co-creator of YogaParenting, an online course helping parents create more joy and less stress in parenting.

How to Share the Pain of Miscarriage and Grow

If you are human then you are WELCOME in this place. This is a safe place for us to join, share, vent, ask…and whatever else we feel like!

Topic: Miscarriage
Confession: I am not very good at asking for help… [Read more…]