Hey Loss Mama
These three words changed my life. I first wrote them in my journal after my daughter Hayden Jae died in July 2021. I had no idea how much they would come to mean to me or the impact they would have. It wasn’t always this way.
If someone had asked me a year ago what my life would look like, I never would have imagined this. I gave birth to death.
On July 13, 2021, I found out Hayden’s heart had stopped. My first baby, my sweet girl, would be born still. Four agonizing days later, on July 17, I gave birth. The labor was long and exhausting, and at 8:32 a.m., she entered this world lifeless.
Life, breath, death. That’s how it’s supposed to go. But not for Hayden. She never took a breath outside my womb. Still, she was there, wrapped in the tiniest swaddle, wearing the smallest beanie. Words will never capture the experience of holding your child, knowing your time is short. We held her. We kissed her. We took in every detail. I will forever cherish those moments. Hayden is my daughter, now and always.
Living on earth without her is unbearable. They say parents wear their hearts on their sleeves. But what happens when your child is gone? My heart beats while hers does not. I felt alone, invisible, misunderstood. Society does not understand grief. People may have good intentions, but they can’t truly understand what it feels like to lose a child.
Unless you live it, you cannot know the depth of this pain.
Grief is not something to fix. Grief has no timeline. It doesn’t disappear, it simply changes shape over time.
I chose to face it, to feel it fully, to let it teach me. I accepted that I would carry Hayden’s death in my heart for the rest of my life. She became part of me, as I will always be part of her.
In 2022, I sought connection. I began writing letters, always starting with Hey Loss Mama. I am a mama, but my child is gone. That phrase became my identity. I shared my story on Instagram and on a website, filled with symbols that remind me of Hayden. I wanted to create a space for Loss Mamas to feel seen and understood.
The community grew, slowly and organically. Each connection reminded me that I was not alone. Sharing is raw and difficult, but it heals. Hayden gave me a depth of empathy I did not have before, and I try to pass that on to others.
Hayden guides me every day. She brings other Loss Mamas into this space. Without her, I would not be here. Without her, I would not have found purpose. My old self died with her, but in that loss, I found a calling: to lift grieving parents, honor their babies, and break the silence around baby loss.
In June 2022, I realized this could be more than posts. It could be a movement. I created the hashtag Hey Loss Mama. It took on a life of its own. We share, support, and validate each other. We come together in grief to create something meaningful.
Nothing can bring our babies back, but we can change the way the world talks about baby loss. We can break the silence. We are Loss Mamas. Our babies are unforgettable. This space is where our love, grief, and memories are honored. I see you. I hear you. I validate you. I acknowledge you. I love you. I am you.
