Grief can settle into the quiet parts of your life until you almost forget what it felt like before. I was finally starting to breathe again when a single photo pulled me back into something I couldn’t explain.
My daughter, Emma, was six when she died in a car accident.
That fateful day, Mark, my husband, had been driving her to a school performance. Another car ran a red light and hit them hard on the passenger side. Emma died in the ambulance. Mark survived by some miracle.
I never fully understood how.
She died in a car accident.
Grief stayed and settled into everything. The pain didn’t fade or heal with time.
Mark handled it differently. He buried himself in work. He worked long hours. Sometimes I wondered if he was running from it or trying to outrun something inside himself.
We stopped talking about Emma after a while, because saying her name felt like reopening a wound.
Ten years passed like that.
Eventually, it felt like breathing had become a little easier.
Mark handled it differently.
“I think… I still want to be a mom,” I told Mark one evening at the dinner table.
He stared at his plate. “Yeah. Me too.”
That was the first real conversation we’d had in years.
We talked about adoption for weeks.
Then, one evening, after another long discussion, we decided to adopt! For the first time in years, I felt it in my heart.
I smiled for the first time in what felt like forever.
“I think… I still want to be a mom.”
While Mark was at work the following day, I couldn’t wait. I opened my laptop, found an adoption site, and started scrolling.
