Thank you for not forgetting my child who died.

To the friend who randomly texts me to say they are thinking of my child.

Thank you.

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To the family member who lets me know they often think of my child, even though others never mention their name.

Thank you.

To the stranger who doesn’t get uncomfortable when I honestly answer their question, “How many children do you have?”

Thank you.

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To the friend who is only a phone call away, allowing me to wallow in grief, even though it’s been several years since my child passed away.

Thank you.

To the people who ask the name of my child and to those who don’t tell me it’s time to “move on.”

Thank you for not forgetting my child who died.

We’ve come a long way in recent years, but our society still has a ways to go. It may have been one day, one month, one year, or a decade . . . but you never get over the loss of your child.

Those 10 toes and 10 little fingers.

That perfect little nose.

They may not physically be in your arms, but they will always hold a place in your heart.

And on those days when the grief creeps up out of the blue, I’m grateful to those who remind me that I am a mother to four children.

Thank you for not forgetting my children who died.

Originally published on Facebook

Stacey Skrysak

Stacey Skrysak is a local television news anchor in Illinois, but her proudest role is becoming a mom after years of infertility. Stacey is mother to a 22-weeker surviving triplet and two angels. Even though two of her children were only alive for a short time, her triplets have touched thousands of people around the world. Through her blog, Stacey has become a voice for infertility, premature birth and child loss. These days, she sprinkles in the trials and tribulations of raising a daughter, who was once nicknamed “The Diva of the Nicu.”