July is Bereaved Parents Month

This month we acknowledge parents who have lived through what no parent ever wants to experience: the loss of a child.

That loss may come through miscarriage, termination for medical reasons (TFMR), stillbirth, neonatal loss, infant loss, the death of a child, or even the loss of an adult child. No matter whether their child's life was the briefest two lines on a pregnancy test or 50 years spent together, their life mattered. Their love for their child matters, and their grief matters. Beyond that, no matter how their child died, they still deserve to be remembered, honored, and loved, even in death.

It is important for those who have never experienced this kind of child loss to understand that there is no timeline for this kind of grief. It stays with you. It changes, and it may soften over time, but it never truly ends. Parents don't just "move on." They continue to carry the love they have for their child and the weight of that loss in their hearts every single day.

Milestones look different. Holidays carry the painful ache that someone is missing. Birthdays take on a different meaning. What may be a perfectly ordinary day to you can be a painful reminder for someone grieving the loss of a child.

If you've never lived through this kind of experience, it can feel difficult or awkward to know how to support a bereaved parent. Say their child's name. Remember birthdays and anniversaries of their loss. Reach out with a simple, "I'm thinking of you." Don't try to compare grief. Honestly, we shouldn't compare any kind of loss. Be willing to sit with them. Let them talk. Share memories. Share laughter. Share tears. We don't need to fix grief. We just need to sit with it, sit beside it, and offer a shoulder that quietly says, "I'm here for you."

I don't say any of this as some expert standing on a pedestal. I say it as someone who has experienced the heartbreak of multiple miscarriages. As someone who watched my grandparents navigate the unimaginable after my father, their only child, passed away at 60. As someone who watched my former in-laws bury their 32-year-old son. Those experiences leave an impression on you that never truly fades.

Those experiences shaped who I am. They also shaped my work as a medium and a death doula. My role is not to fix grief. It is to create a safe place where people can tell their story, feel supported, honor their loved one, and, if it feels right for them, explore spiritual connection as part of their own healing. They are the reason I will always hold space for grieving families. There is no age limit on being someone's child, and there is no expiration date on a parent's grief.

If you've come across this post as a bereaved parent, I want you to know this:

Your child mattered.

Whether your loss happened weeks ago or decades ago. Whether your child lived for minutes, months, or 60 years. Your love didn't end when their life did. Your grief is a reflection of that love, and you deserve a space where both can exist without judgment.

You are not alone, and your child's story deserves to be remembered.