Hello mothers and others, 

Kristin here. When I write this newsletter, I usually sit down and ask myself – what feels important to me this week? What’s happening in my life that’s probably relevant to our motherhood community? I know that we all have our own experiences and our own particular circumstances. But I also know that we’re more similar than we are different, and  if it’s happening over here, chances are that it’s happening over there too. 

So this week, I want to talk about grief. (Actually, I don’t really want to talk about it but it’s all I can think about, so there you go.) There has been so much grief and loss in our world over the last two years, and we probably don’t share about it enough.

Last week I found out that a dear friend of mine has entered into hospice care and that her time here with us is coming to an end.

Her name is Lindsay, and she is an incredible person, with a giant open heart and a loving spirit. She is also married with two very young daughters. I found out she was sick last summer, and her cancer has progressed very quickly. Much more quickly than any of us expected.

Over the past week I have sobbed, kept myself busy, laid on the floor, tried (and failed) to work, sobbed more, prayed for miracles, and shared stories about Lindsay with friends and family. I have cried my eyes out, inconveniently, while getting a haircut with a brand new stylist (who listened with compassion and brought me a huge wad of toilet paper.) I have cried my way through meetings. I’ve been happy, even joyful, and distraught the minute I found myself alone. My chest has literally been aching for a week. 

I knew, when it came time to write today, that I would write about Lindsay. It seemed inevitable. But what really is there for me to say? That life is precious, and not to be taken for granted? We all know that. I realized, sitting here, that I’ve been trying to make sense of something insensible. It’s what we do when we feel out of control. We try to figure it out, make it make sense, because deep down we believe that if we could only understand WHY, we have a chance at preventing the same thing from happening to us. But that’s not how it works. 

The thing is, grief and loss are a universal part of the human experience. We will all experience loss; we will all grieve. It’s how we know that we’re fully alive. 

I hope that, in sharing my experience, you feel less alone. I know I feel less alone, sharing it. But what I also know is there’s no “normal” way to grieve, no timelines, no telling how we’ll be from one day to the next. All there is for us to do is let ourselves be carried along.

This one is for all of our beloveds – for all of our Lindsays. 

From my heart to yours –

Kristin & the LUMO team