#miscarriage-and-grief

#miscarriage-and-grief

The concept album is a response to the brutal murder of Breedlove's father and stepmother at the hands of his stepbrother. The frame—the first song and the last—of the album is about the murders and their aftermath. But this is not a true crime record.

"[After] years of holding pain, you become really tight in yourself...you hold yourself tight and you don't want to take up space."

Dalila's illness had begun about a year earlier. She does not know why she began refusing food, only that she started to see herself differently and could no longer recognise her body as her own.

We feel robbed. Nicola was handling her epilepsy, taking her medication which was reviewed periodically but she nor us knew anything about sudden unexpected death. Because of this they had become 'too complacent' about the illness and the family would have been more wary if they had been made aware of the risk of SUDEP.

Sofii Lewis described her experience, stating, "I knew I wasn't safe. But I didn't think I was out of control." This highlights the confusion many face with postpartum psychosis.

Peter Dervin had spent all day by his son's side in Broomfield Hospital before he decided to get dinner. He pleaded with staff at the Essex facility not to leave his eldest child, Greg, alone in his absence. "They almost laughed at me and said, 'This is what we do. We're nurses and we look after patients'," Dervin recalls. Greg had been given lorazepam, an anxiety drug flagged by clinicians as leaving him prone to becoming unsteady and agitated.

Today I saw images of students leaving their school with their hands raised in the air, hours after cowering in fear and terror in barricaded classrooms. Nine dead and twenty-seven wounded in the tiny Rocky Mountain town of Tumbler Ridge. The mayor, Darryl Krakowka, said, "I have lived here for 18 years. I probably know every one of the victims." And this in Canada, which often seems to us Americans like a bastion of sanity and normalcy in comparison with our madness.

I just want to talk to whoever has romanticised the idea of being a new mom. When you're in a flurry of diaper changes, following a two-hourly pumping schedule and meticulously cleaning and mixing up bottles while running on less sleep than you've ever had, mommyhood ends up being more of a frenzied checklist of tasks to get done and not enough time snuggling and making babytalk with a babbling infant.

'They're dead.' In disbelief, my response was unfiltered. 'What?' Followed by the F word. A wave of emotion rushed through me. My chest tightened. My body went cold. I could not immediately find the words to offer condolences, not because I did not feel them deeply, but because inside, my many parts were experiencing a collective shock. When you live with dissociative identity disorder (DID), news like this does not land in one place. It ricochets across all parts within.